


Home Is Where...

by Tyger



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AU, AU (complete), Community: roads_diverged, Friendship, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-28
Updated: 2009-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyger/pseuds/Tyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey," he says, and he grins at Roxas, and yeah, it's friendly, but it's not Being Friendly, and that's different enough that he doesn't just walk off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/roads_diverged/profile)[**roads_diverged**](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/roads_diverged/) ; theme #17 - high society.

It's only two hours after the party has started, but Roxas has already had enough.  He slips up the stairs, unnoticed, and makes it to the roof.  Sora will give him hell when he realises - _You need to get out more, Roxas_ , he'd said, and Kairi had added, _Try and meet just one new person, okay?_

But even for Sora, Roxas doesn't want to kill himself, and that's what it's like, down there:  overcrowded and stuffy, he feels like he's slowly suffocating, destroyed by all the lies.  This is not a party for celebration, it's a party for politics, and though Roxas hardly knows anybody, he knows what they're like.  He hates that.

He spent most of the time he was down there with Naminé - she comes mainly to see him, he knows; she hates parties just about as much as he does, and Sora's at her house often enough that she'd be more likely to go out of her way to _not_ see him, than otherwise.  And he likes her well enough to oblige her, at least until the walls start to loom in on him.

He can still hear the party, from here, but it's muted - a vague sense of noise and music, and the lights from the windows spill out onto the gardens - and despite that, the roof is dark and silent.  Roxas looks up, and feels the enormity of the universe.  He feels even more trapped than before.

He's barely had time to adjust to the darkness, when the door opens again, and out spills another guy.  He's definitely a guest, but though he's dressed for the occasion his hair is bright red, defiantly spiking out.  He's talking on the phone, but not in any language Roxas recognises.  He seems pretty harmless, though, so Roxas stops watching him out of the corner of his eye.  The phone call doesn't take long, and when the guy doesn't immediately go back downstairs, Roxas braces himself for more unwanted conversation.  But the guy is silent.  Roxas approves.

They stay there - Roxas, slumped on the railing, brooding out over the city he'd never been to, and the guy, leaning out not quite too far, smelling of expensive wine and the party downstairs, half looking at Roxas, half not looking at anything at all - for maybe half an hour, in complete silence.  The wind, like everything about the place, is tamed and cool, but it comes from _outside_ , at least, so Roxas doesn't mind it as much as he otherwise would.

Then, the guy seems to spring to life - wakes up, just like that.  Like he just came up to the roof, and the rest hadn't even happened.

"Hey," he says, and he grins at Roxas, and yeah, it's friendly, but it's not Being Friendly, and that's different enough that he doesn't just walk off.

"Good evening," Roxas says, like he's supposed to - but he says it how he means it, which is less 'nice night, isn't it', and more 'who the fuck are you and what are you doing on my roof, anyway'.

"Geez," says the guy, hopping up on the railing, facing inward, body turned towards Roxas.  "It's hardly _that_ bad."

He gives a noncommittal grunt, and looks back over the city.  He can see Twilight Town's station tower, all lit up.  There are some dark blobs over the clock-face, and he wonders if they're people, snuck up there to watch the city from a height.

The guy makes an annoyed noise in his throat, and Roxas expects him to jump down from the railing and stalk off, back to the party and the people and the excitement and the Being Friendly.

Instead, he says, "Okay, well maybe it _is_ that bad.  But hey, may as well make the more of it, right?"  Roxas looks up at him, and he's grinning with such honesty Roxas can't help but think he's lying somehow.  Roxas rolls his eyes.

"Most of it."  The guy blinks down at him.  "The phrase is 'better make the most of it', not more of it."

The guy throws back his head and laughs, bright and loud and colourful in a place once cold and dark and quiet, and Roxas can't help but think that this, at least, is real.

"I'm Axel," says the guy, once he's finished laughing.  "That's _Axel_.  Got it?"  Roxas snorts, and looks away, back out to the city.

"Nice to meet you," he mumbles, purely out of deeply-ingrained reflex.  Axel keeps looking at him, though, despite the clear dismissal.  Like he _wants_ something.

"What?" he finally asks, eyes narrowed, frowning.  Like hell is he going to give this guy whatever it is he wants.

"Well," says Axel, with another grin, hopping down off the railing and _looming_ , the bastard, "it _is_ kind of customary to introduce yourself to someone who's done the same to you, you know."  Oh.  Was that all.  Roxas isn't used to people not knowing him.  Almost everyone he meets he's been introduced to by Sora, or set up to meet by Sora, or been approached for political purposes - everyone knows him, then.  He doesn't go looking for strangers.

"Roxas," he says, because hey, it's just his name.  It's not important.

" _Oh_ ," says Axel, " _You're_ Roxas."  Go on, thinks Roxas.  Say it.  _Sora's brother_.  Because he knows this is how he's defined.

Instead, Axel says, "The mysterious one!" and grins again.

Roxas stares at him for a second.  What the hell is this guy _on_?

"What," he says, instead, voice flat and disbelieving, because the best way to deal with unknown personages is, in his experience, with hostility.

"Well," says Axel, smiling down at him as if he was a small child, "I've _heard_ of you, but that's it.  No-one knows anything about you.  Thus," he says, making a dramatic gesture with his right hand, "the mysterious one.  Got it _memorised_?"

Mysterious.  Right.  More like _antisocial_.  Or hell, even just a cold bastard, like Riku always says he is.  And evidently his disbelief is just too much for Axel, because he bends down a little until they're eye to eye, and says,

"Well?" he says, and when Roxas doesn't automatically reply, boggling at the inanity of the question as he is, adds, "do you?"

"Do I _what_ ," says Roxas, and wonders if he's going to have to resort to violence.  Despite the trouble he knows he'll get in, he kind of hopes he will.

Axel straightens, puts one hand on his hip, and buries his face in the other.  "Have it memorised," he says, with a tone Roxas knows exceedingly well.  It's usually addressed to Sora, however, and he's kind of offended.

"No," he says, grumpier than ever, and pointedly looks back over the city.  The blobs on the top of the station tower are gone, now.  Must have been people, after all.

Axel stands stock-still, for a second, as if frozen.  Then he laughs again, softer this time.  A different sort of laugh, Roxas supposes, but he has no idea why.  Not that he'd found _either_ of the times funny in the least, so perhaps that's inevitable.  Axel doesn't say anything more, though; just sits himself back up on the fence, facing outwards this time.  The breeze makes his hair wave, Roxas sees out of the corner of his eye (no way he's letting a crazy like that out of his sight - who _knows_ what he'll do).  It looks a little like it's burning.  It looks a little like he's moving; leaving this place.  But he knows it's neither.

It's maybe another quarter of an hour, twenty minutes - it's late enough that Roxas' inner clock is on the fritz, (not that it's ever that reliable after the sun goes down), and he forgets to check the station tower clock every so often - that Axel's phone rings.  He smiles, a little, to himself, and starts speaking in that language Roxas doesn't recognise as soon as he picks up.  It's a short call.  When he hangs up, he smiles to himself a bit more, as he puts his phone away, then leaps back off the fence in a single fluid bound.  Roxas stares a little, and wonders what it would be like, to fight someone who could move like that.

"Well," says Axel, grinning again, "I guess I'll see you 'round, o mysterious one."  He turns on his heel, and disappears back out the door.  Roxas watches him go.

 

The next day, once Sora manages to drag himself out of bed - just one look at him and Roxas can just _tell_ not only that he got into another drinking competition with Riku, but that he'd _lost_ , which pretty much means that he'd been the one passed out on the table at the end of the night.  Roxas has yet to find the appeal of getting _that_ completely shitfaced.  Half the time he finds out later that Kairi's had to make sure the both of them haven't drowned in their own vomit overnight, which leave the entire three of them ill, irritable and exhausted the next day, as well as hungover.  Which for Sora, being Sora, just means he's only filling _half_ the room with smiles and goodwill, but still.

In any case, it's about three in the afternoon, when Sora walks over to him (and that in itself is a mark of how bad he feels - Sora hardly ever just _walks_ somewhere.  Often he runs, or at the very least, there is bouncing involved), and steals one of the scones he was having for afternoon tea.

"So," says Sora, around a mouthful of what is undoubtedly his breakfast, "did you meet anyone last night?"  He sighs, reaching for another scone.  The _of course not_ is halfway to his lips before he remembers the guy on the roof.  Though he's not sure if that really _counts_ , in any case.

"Sort of," he says, and liberally applies jam and cream.  Sora stares at him.

"How can you _sort of_ meet someone?" he asks, though the question is all but rhetorical, as all Roxas does is shrug.  Sora demolishes another two scones, and starts looking around for another cup, so he can have some tea, too.  Roxas draws the line at sharing teacups, and has made quite sure Sora knows it.  "Did you get a name, at least?" he says, voice muffled due to his head being in the sideboard.  Roxas isn't quite sure why, as there are more cups on _top_ of the sideboard, right in plain view, but Sora isn't, exactly, the most observant soul.

"Yes," says Roxas, nursing his own tea, now that Sora's eaten all of his scones.

"Well?" says Sora, after he finally notices the teacups and is pouring some tea of his own.  "What is it?"

Roxas says, very deliberately, "I don't remember."  Sora gives him an odd look, so he adds, "You have jam on your nose."  Sora goes cross-eyed, and then licks off the offending substance.

"Thanks."

 

The next party they have is at New Years.  Roxas really, really hates New Years, because they always have the party outside, due to the fireworks.  On the lawn, of course, not his roof, but he still doesn't like it at all - no matter where he goes, he can't escape it.  Sound travels a lot better through air, of course, and the house is always chaos, since the kitchens are well inside, and New Years always seems to require large quantities of food.

Roxas doesn't go down to the lawn, at New Years.  The cooks know him well enough to save him bits of the things he likes best, and he goes and gets some when he's hungry - this is what they do when Sora's out, too.  Sora doesn't like it when Roxas is unsociable, and won't stand for him to _eat_ alone, along with the rest of it, when he's home.  Roxas isn't sure what the rest of the family thinks of it - whether they think this is just a teenage phase, and better to just let it pass, or if they honestly don't care - but it's not like their opinion has ever mattered to him, anyway.  Sora's does, though, and if he eats with him, he's less likely to try and make him socialise in other cruel and unusual ways, so Roxas figures it evens out.

Despite his distaste for the New Years _party_ , however, Roxas _does_ like the fireworks.  So, with a quarter-hour or so to go before midnight, he meanders down to the roof, dessert in hand.  He's chosen the trifle over the pavlova, tonight - it's New Years, after all, and he has a feeling he's going to need the alcohol, by the end of it.  That, and the pav will still be around tomorrow, but the trifle has custard and cream and sponge in it, and a large amount of very good booze, and so is liable to go a bit too squishy to look any good, before too long.  He wonders, idly, as he hops up onto the railing, if there would be any way to get ice cream into a trifle, without it ruining it.  Probably not, but it would be sort of incredibly awesome if it could.  Though he's not quite sure how well sea-salt ice cream would go with jelly.  Perhaps it'd be best if he stuck with vanilla, in this one instance.  Maybe strawberry, or something with fruit in it.

It is rather difficult, to look up to the sky when balanced on a railing while eating trifle, however, so Roxas looks down at the party.  He's immediately even more glad he's not down there himself - from a height, it looks even worse than he remembers it.  There are people _everywhere_ , talking and drinking and some even having sex in the bushes.  Roxas smirks, at that; most of the bushes near the lawn are, if not roses, rather spiky.  A number of people are going to wake up with cuts in very _interesting_ places, that's for sure.  Poetic justice at work, he thinks, and tries to look for Sora.

Sora's pretty hard to find in a crowd from a height, however.  They're kind of short, and his hair's dark enough that it blends in quite well.  So really, the best way to find Sora, when looking down from on high, is to find _Riku_.  Riku is old enough to have had his growth spurts, and has distinctive hair, so he's not hard to find.  And he's never away from Sora for very long, if he has anything to say about it.  Which he does.  If Riku's not there, finding Kairi is of course the next best option, but her dark red just doesn't stand out the same way Riku's white does.  Funny about that.  In any case, Roxas spends a minute or two looking for Riku, when he notices another distinctive head.  Bright, bright red, not at all like Kairi's.  Very unusual, very _rebellious_ , so it's probably the guy from the rooftop last time... Axel.  Roxas doubts very much that anyone else would have hair like that.  And from the little he can make out, it spikes the same way, so it's almost certainly him.

Axel... moves weirdly.  Roxas isn't quite sure what it is, but he knows he does.  And he doesn't stay still for very long, either, which is more than a little unusual, when it comes to parties.  Sure, people mingled, that was half of the point - but they usually had conversations, too.  _This guy is really weird_ , thinks Roxas, and tries to figure out what bugs him about him.  After a few minutes, though, Axel pauses, in his movements, and looks right up at Roxas.  (Roxas isn't quite sure how he can tell the guy is looking at him, at this distance, but he knows it, in his bones.  He learnt to rely on his bone-senses over his brain a long time ago.)  Roxas blinks, scowls, and - Riku.  He was looking for Riku, so he could find Sora.  Where had that bastard gone, anyway?

Five minutes later, he's still not found him - or Sora, or Kairi - and Roxas is beginning to wonder if he's going to have to have _words_ with Riku.  Words that may or may not involve blunt force trauma.  Roxas hopes not, but then again, beating the shit out of something is sounding more and more appealing.  The door opens, behind him, but he pays it no mind.

"Well," says Axel, coming up next to him and leaning on the railing, "Hel _lo_."  Roxas blinks, looks at him out of the corner of one eye.

"Oh, it's you," he says, and goes back to his searching.

"Well _that's_ friendly," says Axel.  "And after I came all the way up here, just to say hi, too."

"Have you seen Sora?" asks Roxas, rather than dignify that with a response.  Axel blinks, then grins.

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't," he says, gesturing with both hands, which is made a little difficult by the fact he has a glass of what looks like sparkling red in one hand.

Roxas half turns to face him, eyes blank.  "Which is it?" he asks, cold.

"Well, you know," he starts, grinning, "there's so many people down there, and - ah."  He abruptly stops when Roxas materialises Oblivion at his neck.  Smart man.

"Which _is it_ ," menaces Roxas.  His left hand is still holding his trifle bowl, but is ready to drop it - or throw it in Axel's face, whichever - at the slightest notice.

Axel raises an eyebrow, and then shrugs without actually moving.

"Last saw him about an hour ago, being _really friendly_ with his sidekicks."  Roxas blinks.  Twice.  And sighs, letting Oblivion dissolve back into darkness.

" _Great_ ," he mutters, turning back around.  "Just brilliant."   He pokes at the last of his trifle unenthusiastically.  Axel stays where he is, for a second, then shrugs and leans back on the railing, lips curling in amusement.

"And here I thought is was supposed to be the _elder_ brother that was overprotective."

"Ha," says Roxas, under his breath.  "Thirteen minutes means shit, in the grand scheme of things, and have you even _met_ Sora?"  The trifle is viciously jabbed, until all that's left is a rather alcoholic pile of mush.

"I dunno," says Axel, grinning again, "a lot can happen in thirteen minutes.  And yeah, I have, what of it?"

"Well duh," says Roxas, rolling his eyes, "but it's hardly relevant when it comes to age.  And if you've met him, I'm sure you understand _why_ I'm the responsible one."

Axel shrugs again.  "Yeah.  Age is relative, anyway."  He takes a sip of his drink, of which he has not spilt a drop, despite the violence threatened to his person.  "I guess.  He's not exactly the brightest spark, I have to say."

Roxas snorts, and raises his head to watch the sky - they've started the countdown, down below.  "He's not _stupid_ , he just... loves everyone," he trails off.  Axel says nothing, and light sets the sky on fire.

They're not the _best_ fireworks either of them have seen, but they're still quite impressive, and it's a long show.  The pyrotechs like to show off whenever they can, and New Years is the best excuse they have, after all.

"Happy New Year," murmurs Axel, as the show starts to wind down.  Roxas flicks an eye down, to look at him; he's still leaning on the railing, drink barely touched from where it had been when he'd come up to the roof, and his face is... impassive.  Slightly amused set of the lips, but it's more tired than anything.  Roxas looks back up at the sky.

"Yeah, whatever."

 

"Hey, Roxas, how have you - "  Upon seeing his brother's face, Sora stops for a second, an ohshit face replacing his usual grin.  " I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"You know," says Roxas,"I was looking for you last night.  But I couldn't find you."  He peers at Sora over the cover of his book.  "Why was that, I wonder."

"Ah."  Says Sora, sheepishly rubbing at his head.  "Um.  About that."

When he doesn't look likely to continue, Roxas _looks_ at him, in a manner usually reserved for librarians faced with a previously pristine book coming back dog-eared and stained.  No one is quite sure how Roxas got this look, given how he treats books.

"Yes?" he says, pointedly.

"Um," says Sora again, going slightly red.  "MeandRikuandKariarekindadating.  And um.  Well.  Er.  Yeah."

"...I don't even _want_ to know the details, do I?"

Sora laughs, still rather sheepish and embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head again, and looking up into the cornices.  Oooh, look, a spiderweb.  Haven't seen one of those inside for a while.  "Prooooobably not, no."

Roxas sighs, and buries his face in his book.  " _Sora_."

"Rox _as_ ," Sora pouts at him.

"We really don't need you getting into even _more_ trouble, you know."

"Hey!" says Sora, indignant, "I'm not getting into trouble!"

" _Right_ ," says Roxas, saying all he needs to about what he thinks of _that_.

"I'm _not_ ," insists Sora, pouting again.  He puts his hands behind his back, looks down and scuffs his shoes as best he can on the carpet.  "Besides."

"Hmm?"

"Well.  You know.  I _love_ them."  Roxas sighs.

"Sora, you love _everyone_."

"Well, _yeah_ , but."  As he talks, his voice quietens; this is personal.  Precious.  Not quite a secret, but close enough to his self to be one.  "Not like this.  This is," he looks up at Roxas, and smiles sweetly, rather than his usual grin.  "a different sort of love, you know?"  Roxas sighs again, resigned.

"Yes, Sora.  I know."

 

He sees Kairi the next day.  She's on her way to Sora's room, he's going looking for a little something between meals - so Sora's not around.

"Roxas," she greets, smiling.

"Kairi," he nods, with a straight face.

"How have you been?"  She, as always, has impeccable manners.  He supposes _someone_ has to.

"Much the same as ever.  And yourself?"  She smiles then, a real smile.  It lights up not just her face, but her entire body.

"Very well, thanks."

"I see," says Roxas, and leans in with a too-bright smile.  "Hurt him and I will kill you."  His voice is a sickly-sweet sort of cheerful; cloying, noxious and so very fake.

"Of course," she says, suddenly the serious one.

 

It takes a bit longer for him to see Riku.  They're so used to avoiding one another that he doesn't even realise he _is_ for several days.  And even after he _does_ realise it's several more days until he manages to catch Riku alone.

Annoying, but necessary.  Sora doesn't need to know about this.

Riku is in the garden, when he finds him - due to his sopping wet state, Roxas is willing to bet that he and Sora had been having a water-fight, and Sora had gone to get towels.  Or more water.  Or ice-cream.  Or anything, really; with Sora, it's sometimes hard to tell.  Nevertheless.

Roxas jumps down from his roof, landing silently in a crouch a few meters from where Riku is standing.  He straightens, as Riku jumps, twirls, and is halfway towards summoning Way to the Dawn by the time he realises who it is.  He untenses, as Roxas steps closer.

"Riku," he says, unblinking.

"Roxas," says Riku, with a slight movement of the head that could be inferred as a nod if one tried a little.

"I heard about the three of you," says Roxas, continuing to move forward at the same casual pace.  Riku freezes, just for a second.

"Did you now?"  He's trying to be casual about it, like they're talking about other people.  Sora will be back soon, he's thinking, not wanting yet another lecture about getting along with Roxas.  Roxas just wants to wipe the smug smirk off his face.

"I did," he says, close enough now that he has to look up at Riku.  But that's okay.  He's very good at looking down his nose at people taller than he is.  He's practised at it, after all.  "I don't like it."

"Oh?" says Riku, flipping his hair back and smirking.  "I don't see why _you_ need to like it."  Roxas stares back, flat-eyed and straight-faced.

"Oh, you _need_ me to like it.  Because if. I. don't," he stalks closer, glaring up at Riku.  If he was on tiptoes, they'd be face to face - but he's too dignified for that.  He can feel the faint senses of _key_ and _daybreak_ coming from Riku, and knows he's reaching for his weapon.

But Roxas has taught himself to summon in less than a heartbeat, so the only warning Riku gets is a flicker of _darklight_ (for some reason, Roxas always feels like _key_.  No-one is quite sure why, but no-one knows how Roxas has a double-summon, either, so it's possibly the least of his oddities in this regard) before Oathkeeper is pointing down on the top of his foot, Oblivion pressing against his neck.

"If I _don't_ ," says Roxas, starting to smile.  It is not a nice smile.  "You are so completely _fucked_."

If Roxas only had one weapon, Riku would summon his own, fight him.  He'd win, too.  Really.  He was sure of it.  That being said... two was problematic.  Also cheating.  No matter how he moved, he'd probably break something.  (He knows how Roxas fights through long experience - and that experience is telling him that when Roxas _smiles like that_ , he's going to go all out.  And that means broken bones, at least, if you can't guard against them.  And they're at such close range right now...)  And Sora would be mad.

But... Sora would be mad at Roxas, too.  And, well.  Little brother or no, like hell Roxas had a say in what Sora did.  In what Sora _chose_.  Like hell he did.

Riku leaps back, summoning Way to the Dawn.  Oblivion slices down, and is blocked in a shower of blue and black sparks; Oathkeeper strikes up, hitting Riku in the ribs.  Hard.

Roxas smirks, just for a second, before rushing forward.  He strikes once, twice, thrice, and is blocked.  Jumps back, circles, doublestrikes - Oathkeeper to the head, Oblivion following in its shadow, hitting Riku's wrist as he blocks.  His hand spasms on the grip, holding too tight rather than letting go, and that's all the opening Roxas needs to slam Oathkeeper back down again, into his gut, teeth first.  Riku lashes out with Way to the Dawn - slicing Roxas solidly across the chest - as he falls back, left hand clutching his stomach as he remembers how to breathe.

They circle, one step, two steps, three - and Roxas jumps forward, keyblades trailing behind him, gathering momentum - if it were concrete, they were fighting on, not grass, they'd be trailing sparks.  Oblivion soars high, faster than Oathkeeper, and Riku blocks as it comes down, twisting to block Oathkeeper too, when it reaches him - only it doesn't.  It drops down, instead, hitting him solidly in the knee.  He buckles, surprised - this is new and unexpected - and Roxas twists around him, bringing Oblivion to the back of his head.

He watches, impassive, as Riku falls, and waits until Way to the Dawn vanishes before dismissing his own weapons - it's the only real way to be sure.  Riku is a tricksy bastard.

It doesn't look like he'd broken any limbs, though he'd fallen at an odd angle.  Although his wrist is coming up purple already.  Roxas hopes it _is_ broken - it'd make him feel a lot better about bleeding for it.  Speaking of which, he'd really better go do something about that.  It's inevitable, now, that Sora will know that they'd fought, but there are still some things he doesn't need to find out about.

That, at least, is something both he and Riku can agree on.

 

Sora had spent the afternoon at the hospital, and is royally _pissed_ , Roxas can tell.  Well.  As pissed as Sora gets, anyway.  Which is... still actually pretty scary, even if it doesn't carry risk of bodily harm.  ...deadly bodily harm, in any case.  Sora isn't scared of fighting people that piss him off - far from it, in fact.

Which is the reason why, upon seeing Sora from the top of the stairs, Roxas turns around and goes back to hide in his room.  Riku had cut him deeper than he'd realised at first, so it would be better to avoid fighting again for a couple of days.

You know.  So he wouldn't need stitches.

He locks the door behind him, and though he knows it won't stop Sora - or even give him pause - if he _really_ wants to get in, it does make him feel better, at least.  And if his stomach complains about missing a meal... well, he has half a packet of smarties and a tin of boiled lollies in the back of his wardrobe.  That'll last him until Sora goes to bed, surely.

He flops on his bed and watches the sun go down.  He loves the colours it makes, but it always makes him feel a bit... wistful.  He likes the sun.  Still, he's not tired, really, so when the light show's over, he gets bored pretty quickly.  Maybe he should check his email.  Naminé had said she'd send him a picture of... well, something.  He hadn't really been paying attention.  Art really isn't something that he cares about, though it's nice to see Naminé so enthusiastic about it.  Something about a digitiser...?  He doesn't remember.

He grabs his computer chair, and flops on it back-to-front, wheeling it from his desk to his computer table.  The lights are on, so he must've forgotten to turn it off last time.  He jiggles the mouse, checks his email.  No new messages.  Well, fair enough.  At least there's no spam.

He's about to turn it off again, when something weird starts happening in the corner.  Silver lines appear, twisting and turning, growing thorns.  The middle starts to turn black, but stops before it's completely opaque.

What the hell, thinks Roxas.  What the hell.  I didn't do that.  ...did I?  No!  I didn't.  But... what.  What the hell.

 _:There you are._

Roxas stares for a long moment, at the screen.  Okay.  Well.  Obviously, the machine is broken.  Yup.  Broken, definitely.  Because machines don't talk to their users.  Definitely not.  Time for percussive maintenance!  He kicks the computer.  Nothing happens.  He kicks it again, and in doing so hits the reset switch.  The screen goes black.  Well, close enough.

He watches the boot up sequence.  See, everything is normal.  Perfectly fine.  No weird things appearing in cor- oh no.  Not again.  He _definitely_ didn't do it this time.  Didn't even _touch_ the thing.

Damnit.  He doesn't want to get a new computer.  This one had been working just fine.

 _:Well_ that _was nice._

Roxas staaaaares at the computer.  Like hell he'll apologise.  One, it'd brought it on itself, and two, _it's a machine_.

 _:Really, it was._

 _:Anyway, how have you been?_

...the computer is asking him how he is.  Roxas feels something deep inside his psyche break a shattering death.  He rubs his eyes.  Maybe, if he stops looking at it, it will go away.

Or perhaps not.  He stares a bit more.

 _:Geez, mysterious one, you could at least, you know.  Acknowledge my existence._

Roxas blinks.  _Mysterious one_?  Where had he heard that before...?

He scowls, and clicks on the weird thing.  A text box fades in.

 _::YOU!_ , he writes.

 _:Me!_ Roxas can almost _hear_ the smug tone.

 _::What the hell are you doing to my computer?!_

There is a few seconds pause.

 _:...saying hello?_

 _::By what._ Hacking _it, or something!?_

 _:Yes._

 _:Of course._

 _:It's not like I have your phone number._

Roxas stares, again.  His computer is being hacked.  By a complete nutcase.  A complete nutcase that _knows where he lives_ , no less.

He bites back down on the first, the second, the third responses.  He almost wishes Axel were here - that way, he could beat him up.  The bastard definitely deserves it, after all.

 _::Why?_ , he types instead.  It is, after all, the most important question.

 _:I was bored._

 _::So you just randomly hack people's computers when you're bored._   Yup.  He definitely needs to beat this guy up.  As soon as humanly possible.

 _:Hardly_ randomly _._

 _:Just interesting people._

 _::And you hacked_ my _computer because?_

 _:You're interesting!_

 _::You barely know me._

 _:So?_

 _:You're interesting._

 _:And anyway._

 _:I'm not bored anymore._

 _:So I was right._

Roxas slams his head into his keyboard.

 _::s78d9f0ofpg[h 4 j3ub0k_

What the hell is _with_ this guy?  Clearly he's insane, but.  Well.  That's hardly _sufficient_ explanation.  There are a lot of insane people in the world, after all.

 _:Nice keyboard smash!_

 _:I give it a 7.5!_

And besides, if he's just bored, there are a ton of things he could do that don't involve harassing _anybody_ , let alone Roxas.  So he's lying about that, at least.  Or not telling the whole truth, which is almost as bad.

 _::What do you_ want _?_ , he asks.

 _:As I said, I was bored.  You're interesting.  I thought we could have a conversation._

 _::I don't like people_ , he types, and wishes Axel were here, again, so he can see just how much Roxas doesn't want to talk to him.

 _:Mean!_

 _:But that's okay._

 _:You don't have to like me to talk to me._   ...strangely enough, that's a very compelling point.  He _doesn't_ have to like him.  Or talk to him.  Or pay him any attention.  He can get up and walk away from this, and Axel can't do a _thing_.

He gets up.  Goes to his wardrobe, and downs half the smarties left in one mouthful.  He shoves the rest of the packet into his pocket, and grabs the tin of boiled lollies, too.  Maybe he can get some of his summer reading done.

He passes by the computer on the way to his desk.  There's already another message, of course.  Axel types fast.

 _:The boiling temperature of mercury is 630.  (Well, 629.88, f you want to get really precise.)  And yet the melting point is below zero._

Roxas stares at the screen, yet again.  The boiling point of mercury?  What?

 _:Pretty cool, don't you think?_

There's really nothing else to do.  He sits down again, putting the tin next to the screen.

 _::Not really_ , he types.

 _::And that's only true if you mix your temperature scales, anyway._   There's a pause, as if Axel isn't quite sure what to say to that.

 _:Well._

 _:I'm impressed!_

 _:Not many people notice that._   Roxas snorts.

 _::I'm hardly a fool_.  He can almost hear Axel laugh, as he replies,

 _:You know?  I never thought you were_.

Oh yes, the guy is insane, all right.  But even so, there has to be _some_ method to the madness.  And Roxas is going to figure it out.

 

One of the things Roxas does every day, without fail, is watch the sunrise.

He can't always watch the sunset - life tends to interfere with those hours - though he does when he can, but he always, _always_ watches the sunrise.

Even when he's been up to three am the night before and sunrise is a bit before six.

It's got to the point that he doesn't even need an alarm, anymore.  His body wakes him up five minutes before it starts - even the days he thinks he can't be bothered.

He's exhausted, but he can't keep his eyes closed, so he drags himself out of bed and into his window.  It wasn't really designed as a window-seat, but it's summer, so if he leaves the window open and puts a cushion or two down so the grooves don't dig into his body so badly, it does the job.

He still can't believe that he'd stayed up to three am.  Talking to Axel.  Stupid crazy bastard.  It wasn't that he'd done it intentionally, or anything.  Not at all.  He'd gone and done other things several times.  But the stupid bastard had kept on talking, so much of it pure nonsense, but...

Well, he'd somehow got into a position to keep an eye on it.  And if the idiot could keep on a topic for more than a few minutes... he was surprisingly knowledgeable.  Interesting, even.  They'd had an actual _conversation_ \- and when was the last time Roxas had had one of them with anyone other than Sora (or perhaps Naminé), anyway?  He can't remember - on the differences between console and computer gaming.  Turns out Axel prefers computers - not that that really surprised Roxas, what with the _hacking his machine_ , and everything - but Roxas likes consoles better.  Something about just having the buttons you need, and a setup that's designed for what you're doing appeals to him.  Nice and straightforward.

Besides.  All the best games are console-only, these days, anyway.  Even Axel had had to concede that point.

Anyway, before he'd known it, it'd been three am.  Roxas still wasn't exactly sure where the time had gone, only that it had.  Obviously it was Axel's fault.  Stupid manipulative hacking bastard.  Never would've happened without him.  And so now he's almost entirely without sleep, despite the fact that he's pretty sure Sora still wishes non-leathal bodily harm upon him.  This is so very not good.

He ends up falling asleep on his windowsill, with the early morning sun shining straight into his eyes.  Despite that, and the horrible position he's in (and if he's not very lucky, his chest wound will open again, and won't _that_ be a lovely thing to wake up to?), he's smiling.

 

When Sora, fed up with waiting for Roxas to leave his room so he can jump him, not-quite-morally unlocks his door and sneaks in around ten o'clock, he finds Roxas still there, dozing happily.

And Sora might sometimes not be the brightest creature to walk the earth, including in matters of other people's feelings.  But he does care about people, and loves his brother like no other, and so he just tiptoes back out again.  It's not often he sees Roxas looking so peaceful, after all.  He'll be able to tease him about sleeping the day away, when he wakes up, in any case.

 

Roxas wakes with a crick in his neck, his chest _aching_ and one leg still asleep.  He's not really all that surprised at that, though he _is_ surprised he nodded off in this position in the first place.

He gets up, showers, tends to his wound.  Even if his stomach is informing him that if he doesn't eat soon, it will give up on him and leave him for some other, more thoughtful soul, there are more important things.  Besides, he doubts that he's going to make it to the kitchen, anyway.  He knows Sora rather well, after all.

He's right, too.  He's almost there - just passing through the conservatory, in fact, where it looks like he's all of maybe ten minutes too late for morning tea, which he's rather put out by, as the air smells suspiciously like apple scrolls and strong coffee - when Sora jumps him.

He doesn't want to fight Sora, of course, and Sora doesn't really want to fight him, but neither of them will back down.  Obviously what they're doing is the right, moral, thing, and the other's an idiot poopyhead for thinking otherwise.  Sora tries to keep it to words, but.  Well.  Neither of them are good at that.  They've always trusted more in their instincts than their brains, when it comes to other people, and even moreso when it comes to each other.  They've spent enough time together that words are practically meaningless, anyway.

So, they fight.

Roxas falls.

He's pretty lucky, he thinks - nothing's broken, except maybe a cracked rib or two, and he's not going to check.  It's not like that's something that can be set.  Sora's always been the stronger of them, after all.  Though Roxas thinks he may have, perhaps, sort of put Sora's back out of joint.  Just a little.  Oops.  Oh, well.  Sora heals pretty fast, it'll be fine.

Even so, he spends the rest of the day being fussed over - first by Sora, who, once he's got his aggression out, is perfectly capable of ignoring the fact that _he_ was the one that gave you those injuries, and caring for you as if he was never mad at you at all.  That' somewhat of a trial, as Sora keeps wanting to poke at him, and Roxas doesn't want him to find his other wound.  Still, Sora's used to him being a prickly bastard, so it'll probably go unnoticed, in the long run.  Then Kairi comes over, bringing Naminé with her - their house was being renovated, it seems, and neither of them like the noise.  So they both spend a couple of hours fussing over him, and even when Sora and Kairi had go to visit Riku, on account of him having a broken wrist - _ha!_ \- Naminé stays with him.  

They don't say much, really; Roxas dozes on the couch while she draws, but he's always uncomfortably aware of her presence.  Like the buzzing of a tv, he can't help hearing it, once he starts.  Still, he's fond of Naminé, so it's a good sort of afternoon anyway.  She fetches him ice-cream, at afternoon tea time, and it's almost sort of perfect.

Apart from, you know.  All his injuries and lack of sleep and Naminé's too-obvious _presence_.  But that's still kind of okay.  It's hardly the first time he's been in such a situation, and it's always nice to spend an afternoon with a friend.

He walks her to the front gate around five; the air is filled with the gold-orange of twilight.  It's kind of hazy with gnats and mosquitoes; he's glad she's going home by car.  They'll attack him over her, it seems, but they'll still eat her alive, given half a chance.

He meanders his way back to the house, ignoring the growing itchiness of his exposed skin.  It makes him feel alive, anyway.  There's nothing really exciting, outside, but his legs are still kind of stiff from curling up in his window, so he walks, stretches them out, runs for a while.  By the time he's done, his ribs are aching and his cut has started bleeding again, just a little, but he feels much better.

 

He doesn't even touch the computer for the next few weeks.  After the first couple of days, he's not even doing it _consciously_ \- his life just gets busier than normal, and it's not like he ever used it much to begin with.

Kairi and Naminé start to come over everyday, to escape the noise, and once Sora makes both him and Riku promise not to try and kill each other on sight, he does, too.  So he spends a fortnight doing normal summery things - water fights, ice-cream on the roof, and four-on-four video game battles.  (Kairi kicks everyone's ass at the shooters, and, three of them being hot-blooded young males, that's normally what they play.  Well.  That and MarioKart.  Roxas is good at MarioKart.)  And whenever Sora, Riku and Kairi go off to do, well, _couple-y things_ , he spends time with Naminé.

They talk over afternoon tea - Naminé likes neenish biscuits very much, Roxas prefers florentines, and they'd both do just about anything for chocolate ripple cake - but mainly, Naminé draws, while Roxas lays about.  Often they're on the lawn, so it's nice just to doze in the sun for hours, even if he can't properly get to sleep due to Naminé's _presence_.  But he still manages to get through all his summer reading (he reads out the exceedingly pretentious bits to Naminé, as well as the more interesting ones.  There aren't many interesting ones, but he still spends most afternoons that he reads talking almost non-stop), and quite a bit of his other homework.  Just being around Naminé, who works so hard almost all the time (and even though Roxas knows she only does it because she loves it he wishes she'd calm down a bit, and let summer do its work on her), makes him feel more motivated than he'd otherwise be.

After two weeks, however, the work on the girls' house is finished, and Naminé stops coming.  It's understandable, of course; Naminé works digitally more than half the time, and now that she's got her new digitiser, she wants to play with it and figure out what she can do.  Perfectly understandable - especially since she's trying to get into art school next year.  She'll need a lot of very, very good work for that, what with the fierce competition for very limited places.  And it makes Roxas happy, to see her fighting in her own way, for the sort of life she wants.  He wishes he knew how to do the same.

But still, once she's gone, he finds it hard to play with Sora anymore.  Those three are always together - always have been, of course, but now that they're... they're _going out_ , it's kind of different.  Without Naminé's presence, he feels like he's intruding.  Not that it stops him, sometimes - Riku is too much of an asshole to go unchallenged, and him and Sora fighting is hardly the sort of thing he needs, to be taken down a few pegs.  Roxas is more than happy to take that role.  But he still feels sort of awkward, and so leaves them alone, more often than not.

A few days after Naminé stops coming, however, he goes to check his email - she'd asked Kairi to tell him to check it, this morning, since he'd never replied to the one she'd sent weeks ago, now, and she'd sent him some more art she wanted him to see.  At least, he thinks, she asks him to check himself.  If it's something she wants Sora to see, she usually just gets Kairi to bring it with her.  Despite his protests, no-one trusts Sora with computers anymore.  He swears he's learnt, but after that one time he'd brought the entire neighbourhood's network down by mashing keys on one of the servers... well, they think they have sufficient reason.

It's not until he's halfway though the boot-up sequence he even _remembers_ the weird evening talking to Axel.  Which is good, he reminds himself.  Not like he knows the bastard, or wants to.  And he has better things to do, than talk to strangers, through computers or not.

Two new messages, both from Naminé.  The first is a watercolour; unusual for her.  It's him, of course - she usually only shows people art if they're in it.  It's the party before New Years, he thinks; he hadn't seen her at all, the last time.  

 _He's bored, looking off into nothing, face polite and Being Friendly_.

He can remember, with disturbing clarity, how much he'd wanted to just _get the hell out_ , at that moment.  All of Naminé's pieces are like that.

The second... he's not sure what to make of.  It looks kind of like oils, but he's pretty sure it's actually digital.  The colours are that sort of weird, that they get when they've been online too long.  But it's nothing like he's ever seen her paint before.  

 _Him again, standing up on the railing on the roof, looking out over the gardens.  His face is composed.  Calm.  Cold.  He's wearing a long black coat; Oblivion and Oathkeeper are in his hands.  He's glowing, slightly, tinged with twilight gold; Oathkeeper shines bright and clean, in his left hand, Oblivion seems to ooze a tangible darkness, in his right.  He looks as if he's a statue, frozen until the end of time.  He looks as if he's about to jump, but instead of the garden below, he'd fall into nothingness.  Into the world outside.  Into something new.  The sun's setting in front of him, sending his face into relief; behind him, the sky is filled with stars._

It's titled, _The Thirteenth Hour_.  Naminé never titles her work.  Naminé always draws from real life - and this is nothing like it.  Roxas's never even _seen_ a coat like that, let alone the rest of it.

He really, really doesn't know what to think about it.  On the one hand, it's kind of pretty, in an abstract sort of way.  On the other, it's fucking disturbing - especially since it's himself, in there.

There's a message, with this one, as well.

 _It's sort of weird, I know.  But I thought you should see it._

Shit.  What can he say to that?  He can't say nothing - if nothing else, Kairi will get mad, for upsetting her sister, and, well.  If Kairi's upset, even in the slightest, both Sora _and_ Riku will try and kill him, he's sure - let alone what Kairi would do herself.  And it's not like he wants to offend Naminé, anyway.

He sits there for almost half an hour, trying to think of what to say.  In the end, he settles for,

 _You're right.  It IS fucking weird.  But I kind of like it anyway.,_

which he thinks will probably mollify her, while letting her know it really is freaky.

He prints it out anyway - both of them, actually - since that's what he does, with Naminé's art.  He has a pin-board, full of her stuff.  It's overflowing, by now, several layers thick, but he's kept everything.  Some things he's taken off, and put in different places - the one of the five of them, mucking around with a can of house paint Sora had found, for example, he has above his desk.  He puts the watercolour print on the pinboard, and goes to put the weird one on, too - and stops.  It's not like the others.  Maybe he should do something different with it.  He thinks about it for a while, then grabs some blue tack.  Yeah, something different would be good.

He sticks it to the back of his wardrobe door.  He's not sure why there, of all places, but, for some reason, it just feels right.  And that's reason enough for Roxas.

Once he's done arranging it to his satisfaction (which takes longer than he'd care to admit, though not really all that long at all), he goes back to the computer, intending to switch it off.

Only, in the corner, there's that weird thing, again.  _Figures_ , he thinks, sort of annoyed, but he sits down anyway.

 _:Hey_ , writes Axel

 _:How're you?_

 _:Did you go away somewhere, or something?_   Roxas scowls.

 _::No._

 _::Also, why are you in my machine again?_

 _:What, really?  But you haven't been around for ages._

 _:Heh.  Silly.  I had fun last time.  Why_ wouldn't _I keep an eye out for you?_   He scowls even more, at that.  Silly?  Him?  Look who was talking!

 _::Yes, really._

 _::And big deal.  So I'm not a computer-addicted nerd.  Deal._

 _:You know_ , types Axel, after a long pause _, you really don't need to be a nerd to, say, check your mail daily.  Most people do it, after all._

 _::And that would be your mistake,_ he replies, eyebrow raised, even though Axel can't possibly see it.  _I'm hardly most people._

 _:Well!_ says Axel, almost immediately.

 _:That's true.  But it was a reasonable assumption!_

Roxas doesn't even dignify that with a reply.  But it's not like that ever stopped Axel, the over-friendly fool.

 _:Anyway, you still haven't answered my first question._

 _:How are you?_   Roxas grimaces, scowls, and sighs.  He still barely knows Axel, but he's got the feeling that repeating the question just means he's going to keep asking and asking and asking until he gets some sort of response.  And his not being here in the flesh ruled out any sort of _physical_ answer, unfortunately.

 _::Fine_ , he types, eventually.

 _:You know, when you say it like that, I can't even tell if you're being sarcastic._

 _::Good for you._

 _:Anyway,_ Axel replies after a few seconds, _did you hear they've finally set a release date for..._

 

The next weekend, there's another party.  End-of-holidays party, Sora calls it; it's mainly at his insistence.  And yeah, it kind of makes sense, in a weird sort of way - one last bang before the school year starts, and all that.

Not that that matters to Roxas, but he likes to understand things.

Even so, the end of summer always makes Roxas irritable (just like sunsets make him melancholy; he likes the sun, he really does, and doesn't like to see it go away, no matter if it's daily or seasonally), so he just grabs some lunch - Sora's somehow, miraculously, managed to arrange a barbecue, a proper one, with sausages-in-bread and potato salad as the main dishes, of which he makes sure to get ample amounts - and a beer, and hops up to the roof, to sit in the sun and enjoy it, without risking being trodden on.

He's long since polished off his plate, and is almost done with his stubby, when the door opens.  He looks up without moving.  Axel.  Why is he not surprised?

"Thought I'd find you here!" shouts Axel across the roof.  When Roxas says nothing, he walks over (and he still moves really weirdly, and Roxas still can't figure out why), and grins down at him.

"Hey," he says.  Roxas glances up at him, making it clear he's really more worried about the almost-empty state of his beer.

"What do you want?" he grumbles.

"Hey, hey," says Axel, acting mock-offended.  "Is that the way to treat the guy who went out of his way to bring you something?"  Roxas just _looks_ at him, flat-eyed.

"No, really, I did!"  He puts the bowl in his right hand under Roxas' nose.  "See?"

Roxas blinks.  Stares.  _Chocolate ripple cake_.  He looks back at Axel, eyebrow raised.  Axel shrugs (the bowl doesn't move), and grins.

"Seemed like something you'd like.  Was I wrong?"  Roxas thinks about it for maybe half a second, then grabs the bowl, possessive.

"Lucky guess," he mutters, and digs in.

 

Axel wanders off after an hour or so, and Roxas doesn't see him again all afternoon.  Which is kind of nice, really; he snoozes on his banana lounge for a few hours, until Naminé comes up to talk to him.  She brings him a frog-in-a-pond and a bottle of lemonade to share between them, though, so he barely grumbles at her at all, for waking him.

"Roxas-" she starts, after a few minutes of silence.  She folds her hands in her lap, looks away.

"Hmm?" says Roxas, as best he can with a mouth full of jelly.

"I-" she stops again, looks down at her hands.  Breathes out (it's too light to be a sigh), looks up at him.  "That picture I sent you."  He blinks, finishes his mouthful.  He knows which one, he knows she knows he knows.  He wonders why she's so serious.

"The weird one?" he asks, though it's not actually a question.

"Yes," she says, but seems unable to say more.

"What about it?"  He's kind of curious, now.  Naminé doesn't usually get this closed-mouth about her art.  Other things, yes, all the time - but not her art.  It's really the only thing she really seems to _like_ talking about.

"It's... it's not _real_ , is it?"  She's looking down at her hands again, so it's a little hard to tell, but Roxas thinks she looks kind of worried.

"Huh?" is all he can really say to that, though.  Its sky defied laws of nature, for one thing.  How could it possibly be 'real'?

Naminé is silent for a long moment.  "I-" she pauses again.  "I don't mean real as in, something that actually happened."  She's looking down at the ground, now.  Roxas says nothing, knowing her well enough that to ask what she means would be to stop her entire explanation.  "More like... true, I guess."  Her knees come up to her chest, she rests her head on them, staring down at her feet.  "Like a metaphor."

Roxas thinks about it.  He's not sure how something like that could be a metaphor, because no, he doesn't glow - or have magic - (and neither do his weapons), he's never even _seen_ a coat like that, and he's really not sure what a sky divided into night and day could possibly represent, since it could never actually happen.

"I don't think so.  Why?"  If Naminé's so worried about it, he'd really like to know what was wrong, after all.

"I-"  Her voice is so soft Roxas can barely hear her, and he's less than half a meter away.  She huddles in on herself, refuses to meet his eyes.  "I drew another one."

He's struck, suddenly, with how _fragile_ she looks.  As if she were a paper doll, blowing about in the wind.  Roxas has never seen her like this before.  He's not sure what to do.

"Naminé," he says, softly, but she shakes her head.

"My mother... since the house was renovated, she wants to change the garden, next."  Roxas is not surprised at this at all.  Naminé's mother is the sort who always likes to be busy and productive - a trait that she's passed down to both her daughters, though in very different ways - but does not have a job, as is befitting a lady of her station.  Because of this, she's continually chairing committees and organising groups - and planning upgrades to her house, be it inside or outside.  And her last project had been out of her hands long before the building started; of _course_ she was already planning something else.  

"So she invited a friend of hers over, that knows a lot about plants.  Since we're old enough that she doesn't have to worry about everything being child-safe, anymore.  And, well, you know how things go, she asked me to draw him a picture."  And this would usually be the point where they start joking about it, how artists got no respect and were exploited by family, how they're weren't vending machines, damnit, press the right buttons and get what you want.  But Naminé's looking even more miserable than before, so Roxas says nothing.  "It was a weird one.  I.  I didn't mean to do it, but I did."  She looks, Roxas thinks, more like a ghost, than a person, at this point.  He still has no idea what to do.

"It was just in pencil, of course, but... it was just like yours and."  She breathes out again (not a sigh).  "I was going to do another one instead, I was, but he asked to see it.  Said that even if I didn't like it, I'd spent so much time on it he was curious.  He said, _how did you know this_ , but I didn't know what he meant.  I didn't."  She's talking very fast now, if still not loud, and Roxas thinks this might be the Naminé version of hysterics.

"He went away.  He came back.  He thinks I'm some sort of _mage_ , Roxas!  That I somehow slipped through all the testing.  He wants to take me to Never Was and, and.  I don't know.  I'm not a mage.  I'm an artist.  I'm an _artist_ ," she almost (but not quite) sobs.  Roxas is torn.  On the one hand, Naminé is showing the most emotion he's ever seen out of her, and all of it's bad.  On the other...

"To the university?"  He doesn't think he can quite keep the envy out of his voice.  He'll never even have the option.

She shakes her head.  "No.  To the research side.  Castle Oblivion."  Oh.  Roxas scowls.  He's heard about the castle.

"That's not right," he says.  "You're not a _test subject_.  Even if this bastard is right, and you do have some weird unknown magic, you're not!  You're a person!"  Naminé finally looks up from her toes, at him, and smiles a bit.  It's weak, and sort of bitter, and looks like it's going to disappear at any given moment, but it's there.  It's something.

"Thank you, Roxas," she says, and though he has no idea why, he thinks he's at least managed to not do the wrong thing.  And that's a start.

 

After dinner (which Sora _hadn't_ managed to influence, and was as stuffy and boring as ever, and why was the party so long, anyway?  Stupid parties...), he retreats back up to the roof.  Maybe he's spent the entire day avoiding everyone, but he's still feeling over-socialised.  Even if he hadn't been participating directly, he'd been _hearing_ them all day, and that was, if nowhere near as bad, still wearing.

He has a plate of mushrooms, and raspberry slice with him, and though they're not his _favourite_ deserts, they're still not bad, and much better than the fruitcake that was on offer.  (Roxas has nothing against fruitcake, as such.  He has issues with fruitcake with so much brandy and fruit peel in it it smells like an alcoholic fruit shop, however.  You end up not being able to taste anything else, which sort of defeats the point, really.  Ruins the texture, too, which is Just Not On.)

He's just about to start kicking himself for not bringing a drink up, when he notices the bottle of lemonade under the table near the banana lounges.  Huh.  He and Naminé had forgotten all about it, in the drama.  It's still unopened, even, which is probably why it's still there.  No glasses, though.  But hey, it's a party, right?  So he sits up on the table, puts his dessert to his right side, and drinks straight out of the bottle.  

It's kind of awkward - much bigger than a stubby, after all, and not the sort of thing he's used to drinking out of - but he has strong arms, so it works out.  And even if it is kind of warm, he doesn't really mind.  Not really.  It's a pleasant evening, after all, and watching the sunset while eating dessert is probably the best thing he can think of to do right now.  It's certainly the one he wants to do the most.

" _Well,_ " says a voice from over by the door.  Roxas tenses, glares.  "Someone looks like he's trying to get very drunk, very quickly."  Oh.  It's just Axel.  He makes a rude gesture, and goes back to watching the sunset.  Axel, of course, takes no notice, and walks (still weird) over.

"Nice, Roxas, nice," he says, "very mature."  Roxas makes an annoyed noise, glaring at him from the corner of his eye.  He picks up a piece of slice and takes a bite.  Defiantly.  See if _he'd_ share.

Axel peers around him, and then raises an eyebrow.  "That's lemonade."

"Really now." Roxas deadpans back, trying to look through the damn fool into the sunset.  It's not working too well.  At least Axel's hair is a matching, if rather different, shade of red.

"You're not going to get drunk drinking lemonade," Axel says, using the Sora-you're-an-idiot tone he's so familiar with.

"You don't say," he says tartly, because really.  They'd never thought anything of the sort, even when they'd been young and stupider.

Axel moves his hands in mysterious ways, makes like he's going to say something, then seems to change his mind.  He sits next to Roxas, instead, and says nothing.  He doesn't even try to steal any of Roxas' dessert.  It's probably the only reaction that not only prevents blunt force trauma upon his person, but actually calms Roxas down, a little.  Not that he's upset.

The sun goes down, and they're left with just the remainders, the reflected colours on the clouds, the light from something that's no longer there.  Roxas puts his plate down.  He's not finished, but he's not hungry anymore.

"You really do look like you could use a drink," says Axel, softer than Roxas has heard him speak before, except that one time at New Years.  It's a weird sort of tone, from Axel's voice - it almost sounds like it actually _matters_.  Roxas isn't sure what it means, but he doesn't dislike it enough to do anything about it.

"Probably not a good idea," he says, still looking out over at where the sun had been.

"What," says Axel with a grin, "you a problem drinker?"  Roxas snorts.

"Hardly."  Axel grins wider, teasing.

"Sooo?  Why not?"  He shrugs.

"Drinking to escape things is a really stupid thing to do."  Axel laughs, softly.

"Ain't that the truth," he says, looking off into the middle distance.

They sit there for a while, until Roxas figures hey, what the hell.  The bastard didn't look like going away any time soon, and, well.  Why not.  Why the hell not.

"My friend is going to be taken away," he says, only realising after the fact that it's in the same weird, soft tone that Axel's been using.  He still doesn't know what it means.

To Axel's credit, he doesn't try and correct him, saying 'don't you mean "one of my friends"', or anything, and Roxas relaxes a little.  Axel really _is_ weird.

"Where to?" is all he says, eyes also on the horizon.

"The castle."  Axel looks at him, eyebrows trying to meet his hairline.

"To see the King?  Well, that's special, isn't it?"  Roxas blinks, snorts, waves his hand at Axel.

"No, no, not _that_ castle.  Castle Oblivion.  At Never Was."  One of Axel's eyebrows lower, the other taking a more mocking look.

"You know, most people just call that Oblivion."

"Yes," he says, "but that gets confusing."  Axel makes a noise at him.

"Gets more confusing with all these castles, I'm willing to bet," he points out.  Roxas just shrugs.  "Still, Oblivion, huh."

"She doesn't want to go.  But they'll make her."  There's no doubt in Roxas' mind about this.  It would be too politically dangerous to refuse something like that - especially since Naminé is the second child.

Axel shrugs, a little.  "Such is the high life, right?"  Roxas scowls.

"Doesn't make it right," he growls, reaching for his lemonade bottle.

Axel puts one hand on his shoulder.  He tenses, but it's light, it's undemanding.  Not worth the effort to shake off.

"If it means so much to you," he says, "go after her.  Make sure nothing's wrong with your own two hands."  Roxas laughs, wry.

"I would, if I could.  But I can't."  No matter how much he wants to.

"Now now," says Axel, shaking his head and gesturing again.  " _That's_ a defeatist attitude if I ever heard one."  Roxas scowls at him.

"I mean it, bastard."  Axel doesn't listen.

"You can do it if you want it enough, I'm sure.  Saying "I can't" just means you don't care enough."  Roxas glares at him, angry.

" _No_ ," he says, bitter (bitterbitterbitter, like tea steeped days too long), "I mean _I can't_.  I am _physically unable_.  Like I care about any of that political bullshit.  I'd do it, if I could, but _I fucking can't_."  Axel stops mid-word, stares at him like he's never seen him before.

"You..." he says, after a second.  "You don't seem that fragile."  And somehow, that honest confusion is enough to drain the anger away.  The bitterness is worse, then, of course, without the anger to distract him, but Roxas can't make himself care enough to resent Axel for that.

"I'm not," he says, "I'm not.  But I."  He sighs, shrugs, and lifts up his armband.

Axel stares at the tech (stupid fucking tech) for a long moment.  "Well, fuck," he says.

 _Pretty much_ , Roxas thinks, but says nothing, putting his armband back in its proper place.  He wonders how Axel had known what it does at a glance.

"What's the range?" He shrugs.

"The property."

"Fuuuuck," Axel says, looking up at the sky.  The first stars are starting to come out.  "That's just cruel."  He gives a wry grin.  "Not to mention fucking illegal."

Roxas rolls his eyes.  "I can't believe you care about that on principle."

"Some things," Axel says, very seriously, "were made illegal for very good reasons."  It doesn't answer his question, of course, but Roxas lets it slide.  It's not actually important.

"Yeah, well," he mutters, "nothing I can do about it."  Axel shakes his head.  His hair brushes across Roxas' cheek, and he flinches away.

"You can , I'm sure.  But let me guess - you don't want Sora to know."  Roxas scowls at him.  Is the bastard trying to pick a fight?

"Tell him and I will fucking eviscerate you."  Axels eyebrows shoot up again, and he grins at Roxas.

"Oooooh," he drawls, " _Will_ you now?"

Roxas bares his teeth at him.  "Yes."

"I very much doubt that," he says, voice low, soft, inviting, almost a purr.  Roxas knows what _that_ means.  It's what Riku tries for, and fails on account of him being too much of a show-offy bastard.  Oh yeah, he knows what that means - Axel _is_ picking a fight with him.  He grins, inwardly, and hops down off the table.

"You gonna back up that claim?" he asks, moving into the free space.  Not for the first time, he's glad the roof has very little on it.

"Well," says Axel, moving to join him, "with an invitation like that, how could I refuse?"  Roxas smirks, and summons Oblivion.  It never looks very impressive, at night; it blends in too well with the darkness.  But that makes it all the more dangerous.

"Keyblade, huh," says Axel, smiling in amusement.  Roxas wipes his face clean, detaches, in preparation for battle.  He summons Oathkeeper.

"Two?" blinks Axel, surprised.  "Well, aren't _you_ special!"  He grins, then, darker and nastier than Roxas has seen him look before.  "But hey.  I'm special too."  Black and silver thorns (that damn hack program) twirls around his hands, forming a pair of... spiky wheels?  Roxas has never seen anything like it before.  He stares for a second, calculating.  Those... weren't summon weapons, were they?  Tech weapons, he realises, and scowls.  Fucking tech.

Wait, weren't tech weapons like that just as fucking illegal as his damn chain?

 _Interesting_ , he thinks, and almost smirks, as he dashes forward, not as fast as he could, just to see what the bastard can do.  Axel dodges neatly, both the first strike and the follow-up, moving easily despite his nice, formal, and probably treadless leather shoes.  Roxas isn't really impressed, but he's not disappointed, either.  He jumps back, circles around, and leaps forward again, faster this time.  Axel takes a half-step back, spins, and catches him across his left shoulder, when he can't stop in time.

It's just a tap, though.  He barely feels a thing.  He stops, stands up straight, and glares at Axel.

"If you're going to fucking fight," he says, pissed, "Fucking _fight_."  Axel crouches a little, twirling one weapon idly.

"I'm not interested in _killing_ you, you know."  He smirks down at Roxas, and he's acting enough like Riku that Roxas feels his kill-Riku-that-bastard-no-matter-what instincts wake up.  Axel's nowhere _near_ as much a priss as Riku is, of course, so they'd never pass for each other, even with the prettiness issues aside, but, well.  It's still added motivation.

"Like you could," he says, and darts forward again.  He strikes, strikes, doublestrikes - but he can't hit more than a glancing blow.  Axel's fast, and, as he continually dodges, Roxas realises what it is about his walk that makes him twitch.  He changes his weight from one foot to the next with each step - kind of useless normally, but obviously a good habit; he seems to be able to change direction at a fraction of a second.  That, with his speed (and he's fast, Roxas has no problem admitting that.  Definitely faster than him), makes him almost impossible to hit.  It pisses him off to no end.  Of course, probably means he has shit all defence, since the attacks he's landing on _Roxas_ seem to do more damage due to the nature of the weapon, than from any real power behind it.

In other words, Axel might have the advantage right now, but when Roxas figures out how to hit him solidly, it'll be a whole different story.

He slows down, stops moving so much.  Starts parrying, rather than attacking.  There's a weakness there, he knows.  Something he can use.  Just got to find it.

Just got to find it.

He parries with Oblivion so hard he feels it resonate in his bones; he can see Axel twitch as his other hand follows up, he pushes back with Oathkeeper, presses the slight advantage, but Axel blocks back when he brings Oblivion down.  He dodges the other weapon, twisting around Axel in his personal variation on Sora's Dodge Roll, striking down with both his keyblades in a massive slash.  Hit!  Axel stumbles slightly, snarls, and he has to jump back to avoid a spiky thing to the eyes.  Ha.  Taking him seriously now, was he?  Damn straight.

Axel follows with the other hand, though, almost faster than Roxas can _see_ , let alone dodge.  He gets lucky, and is already moving the right way, and is only hit in the side.  He ignores the sudden pain and the slow sinking feeling of losing blood to take the opportunity to hit Axel in the ribs, and, once the wind gets knocked out of his opponent, starts a combo that ends with Axel flying across the roof with momentum.

Axel lands on his feet, but is, Roxas is pleased to see, kind of shaky.  They look at each other for a long moment, assessing.  Reassessing.

Then Axel begins to laugh.  Roxas can't help but break his face and give a fierce grin back.  With teeth.  There are definite teeth in that grin.

"Not bad, not bad," says Axel, sounding unusually happy for someone who'd just been beaten about by two rather large weapons made of something otherworldly, but identifiably metallic and denser than life-sized lead replicas.

"Not bad yourself," says Roxas, in a similar sort of tone, which is probably quite inappropriate given the amount of blood on the rooftop - all of it his.

"Er," says Axel, making a much more eloquent gesture to Roxas' wound, dismissing his weapons as he does so.

"Ah," says Roxas, as if he hadn't noticed it before.  He hadn't, not really.  Fighting is more important than such trivial things.  "Yeah."

"Infirmary?"  Roxas shakes his head.

"I can handle it."  Axel stares a little.

"You do realise if you bleed much more you'll probably pass out," he says.

"I don't pass out very easily," says Roxas, calm and serious. "I'll be fine."  He lets go of the keyblades - they disappear before they hit the ground - and presses his hands to the cut, slowing the blood flow.  Slowly, but steadily, he starts walking to the door.

"Shit," says Axel, loping after him.  "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."  Roxas smirks up at him, giving him back the same condescending gaze he's received earlier.

"For what it's worth," he says in the same tone, "it was a fucking fight.  That's what happens in a fight, you know.  People get hurt." Axel scowls, for a second, and then shrugs, holding the door open.

"Still, I'm not the one covered in blood," he says.  Roxas raises an eyebrow at him.

"Have you even looked at your gloves," he says.  Axel looks.  His right - the hand he'd sliced Roxas with - was, while not exactly dripping, definitely bloody, with spots going all the way up to his elbow.  Evidently his was not the sort of weapon that left nice, clean, surgical cuts that didn't even realise it until some time after.

He shrugs.  "Well, that's not unusual," he says.  "Still, you're bleeding everywhere, and I've just got bruises."  He grins.  "Guess I won."

 "Bruises, ha!" says Roxas, turning away from the route to the party and toward the one to his room.  "You'll be in agony for weeks."  He grins.  It's not a nice grin.  "I heard at least a couple of bones snap."

Axel laughs.  "Bastard," he says, "Fair enough."

 

It took them all of three weeks to take Naminé away.

She hadn't sent him any emails - and, for once, he'd been checking every day, despite the high likelihood of it wasting his entire day - so he isn't told until the day after.  Kairi's come over, which isn't at all unusual, but the fact that she seeks out Roxas is.

"Roxas," she says, voice soft and serious.

"Hmm," he says.  It's only morning tea time, which is early for Kairi, and he's reading the paper while eating a muffin.  It's full of blueberries, which is even nicer than normal, as they're in season at the moment, and so sweet more often than tart.  As she's talking, he cuts his muffin neatly in half horizontally and butters it.

"I, um," she says.  It's unlike her to stutter, which gets Roxas' attention.  He looks away from his food, and up at her.  "Naminé, she-"

"They took her," he says.  Kairi blinks, almost as if she's surprised he knows what she's talking about, then gives a slightly rueful smile.

"Yes," she says.  She's silent, for a moment, then tries to cheer up.  "Well, I'm sure it's a great opportunity for her, and..." Kairi says, but she couldn't even convince Sora.

"Sit down," says Roxas, motioning to the chair next to him.  She does so, with a slightly puzzled look.  He gets up, fetches another cup, and pours her some tea.  It's blackberry, today, which he thinks is supposed to go with the blueberry.  He's not sure that works, and it's not his favourite sort of tea, but it's warm, and girls are supposed to like fruity things, anyway, right?  Two sugars, white, he remembers, a complete butchery of proper tea.  She still looks confused, when he sets it down in front of her, but he pays her no mind, and gets another muffin.  By the time he's cut it up and buttered it properly, and put that beside her saucer, she's leant back, a little, in her chair, and is cradling the teacup between her hands.  She still looks unsure of what's going on, but some of the tension between her eyes has loosened.  Roxas sits back down, and finishes cutting up his own muffin.  He eats it, and sips at his tea, until she puts her own cup down, and reaches for the muffin he'd brought her.

"Naminé," he says, calmly and matter-of-fact, and she turns to look at him face-on, "is stronger than you know.  She will be okay.  No matter what happens, she will still be okay."  Kairi stares at him.  "If you believe it, it will be true."

"But how do you know?" she all but whispers.  Roxas shrugs.

"I'm not stupid.  I've seen a bit.  It's the sort of logic Sora lives on, right?"  She nods.  Sora's always saying that sort of thing, always hoping for the very best in every situation.  "And," he says, smiling slightly, "has Sora ever been wrong, when it comes to stupid logic like this?"  She thinks about it, then smiles.

"No," she says.

"Well, there you go," Roxas says.  "It seems pretty simple.  Sora's somehow the expert here.  That's how he does it.  So, if you're worried, you do it too."  He smirks at her.  

"And then," he says, "go beat Riku up."  She gives him a _look_ , and so he adds, "It always makes _me_ feel better."  Her laughter fills the room, and he smiles.

 

Despite his somewhat sincere good advice, Roxas can't believe in it himself.  He's always been the more pessimistic of the two of them, and, well.  Even though it makes sense logically, and he's normally a logical person, the logic relies on such illogic that he can't convince himself it works.  Even though he knows it does.

He's worried, and it's not a good feeling.  He spends most of the day stretched out on his bed, completely ignoring his schoolwork, trying to think of what he can do.

The answer is always nothing.

He runs his fingertips along his new scar.  It's still kind of fascinating; long and still tender if he pokes it too hard.  The skin's bumpy all along it, not quite healed properly, and it bunches up a bit where he'd had to put in a few stitches.  Stupid spike-wheels.

He takes his hands away before he can start picking at it - he's long since learnt the hard way how bad that can be - and rolls off his bed via his good side.  It's twilight, outside, but rather than sit in his window and watch it, he walks down through the house, and out onto the lawn.  He debates finding Riku and picking a fight, since he hasn't for quite a while, but he can already hear the clang-thump of keyblade battles in the distance, and decides not to disturb them.  Maybe Kairi has taken his advice after all.  Instead, he goes for a run, summons his keyblades and shadow-duels against a million unseen foes.  He flops down near the fence, next to the pond.  The world is suddenly hazy, green-gold, and mosquito filled.  He can hear water running over rocks, the occasional _plop_ of a fish finding a tasty bug on the surface, and birds saying goodnight all around him.  It's peaceful.

After a few minutes of stillness, a sending creeps up to him.  Creeps in the least pejorative sense of the word; these sort of sendings are unable to move in any other fashion.  Or, at least, if they are, Roxas has never seen them do it.  Sendings are odd sorts of things.  Roxas has no idea what they actually are, and, it seems, neither does anyone else.  Or if they do, it isn't the sort of information available to the general public, in any case.  They aren't too bright, but they're trustworthy, or so he's heard, though he has no idea who they're loyal _to_.  But they carry mail and do weird sorts of odd jobs, these creeping ones.  The other sort he's seen, taller and more human-like - in that they have limbs more or less equivalent to arms and legs - he's pretty sure are supposed to patrol around looking for monsters that've somehow made their way through the walls and the guards and the barriers and everything that's supposed to make sure they don't get into the city (but, for some reason, always fails and lets _some_ things through, anyway.  That or they just live here, now, and no-one has found their nests yet.  The jury is still out.  Literally).  In practice, it seems, they just wander around and make mischief; taunting dogs, jumping out at small children, and the like.

Both types occasionally come into this end of the garden; Roxas has seen them around a few times.  They probably like the tranquility of it, too, he thinks.  He _knows_ the small ones like it when he scritches their kind of bird-like heads, though, so he does so.  They're sort of cute, when they melt a little under his hands.  Like puppies.  About as smart as puppies, too.  They were never allowed to have pets, so he thinks these guys must be the next best thing.  He'd heard, somewhere, that they were from the same place that summon-weapons are.  He's not sure that's true, though - they _look_ metallic, like they keyblades do, and they _are_ kind of smooth, but they're not really like metal at all.  Too bendy and squishy and _warm_.  Which of course doesn't mean they're _definitely_ not from the same place as summon-weapons, but it does mean that there's not any evidence that they are, either.

The sun's just about set, just a sliver over the horizon, when his stomach growls at him.

Oh.

He'd forgotten to go have dinner.  Again.

Sora is going to kill him.

...oops.

"Sorry," he says to the sending, putting it down from where it'd curled up on his chest in a puddle of happiness, "I've gotta go."  Maybe if he hurries... no.  No, it's still early enough in the year that the sun sets about half past eight.  He's just screwed.

Oh, well, he thinks, and jogs back up to the house anyway.

 

He's lying next to the pond again a few days later.  On the sunny side, not the shady side, this time, as it's early afternoon and he's looking for sunshine.  It's the first time he's been allowed out of the house for days, after all.  (Sora had been mad, and, well.  As they always did, their fight had escalated to violence.  He'd felt fine the next day, despite the bruises that (still) covered his body, but house-bounding was the punishment for fighting so badly, unfortunately.)  So now that he's free again, he's spending every minute he can out in the open.

To that end, he's lying on his stomach, doing his physics work.  It's much more pleasant than doing it at his desk, though it takes longer, since he keeps dozing off.  The sunshine's melting his bones and making his eyelids droop - and who is he, to deny sleep?  Still, he's about halfway through the week's work, when a voice says,

"Hello down there!"  He looks over his shoulder, and.  just  stares.

Axel is standing on his fence, waving.  When Roxas does nothing, says nothing, he jumps down and walks over.

"Geez, you look like shit," he says, motioning to the few bits of Roxas' skin that've stayed uncovered.

"I'm _fine_ ," says Roxas.  "What the hell are you doing here?"  Axel shrugs, and sits himself down next to him, easy as you please.  Doesn't even ask non-verbally.  Roxas scowls.

"I was in the area, you know.  So I thought I'd drop by."  He peers at Roxas' work.  "Hey, what're you doing?  Homework?  Oh, man," he says, yanking Roxas' textbook out from under the pile.  "I remember this book.  Such a piece of shit, I swear," he says, grinning and shaking his head.  Roxas can just _tell_ he's going to spend the whole afternoon going a mile a minute, if he lets him.  And he's not exactly sure if physical violence would actually _stop_ Axel talking, though it might change what he talks _about_.  Not that _that_ bit was all that hard.

"Are you this annoying on purpose?" Roxas asks, and Axel says,

"Yes."  Roxas hits him, for his impudence, but smiles at his honesty, and lies back down.  He can do his physics work after dinner.  Why waste the sunshine?

 

He doesn't see Axel again for a couple of months, after that.  School starts in earnest, and though they don't have to actually _go_ anywhere, it's their last year, so both he and Sora are flat out, trying to keep up.  Riku and Kairi are the same way; they go from coming over every day to one, maybe twice a week.  Sora hates it so much - he's already got a scholarship to the Royal Knight program, at the university, after all.  Of course, said scholarships are dependant on you actually getting a decent mark at the end of the year - something Riku had learnt too late, last year.  Roxas had laughed at him, naturally, but he's also pretty sure that it's the best thing that could have happened.  The three of them would be together for that, too, which seems proper.  (Kairi didn't have a scholarship - girls even _applying_ for the course itself were almost unheard of, so she hadn't bothered putting her name down for consideration.  It wasn't as though she really needed one, and her marks had always been enough to get her in.  That, and she didn't want to affect Sora's chances.  Sora's marks weren't great, mainly because he spent so much time fighting and getting stronger _that_ way.)

Roxas can't apply, of course, though he'd love to be able to.  He doesn't think he really wants to be a Royal Knight, but he wouldn't mind doing the Adventurer course... major in skirmishing, minor in tracking, perhaps, or maybe item-based magic, as he has none of his own.  Or hell, even philosophy or something else inanely academic.  _Anything_ to get him out of here.

Even thinking about it is useless, though, and makes him kind of depressed.  Also makes him wonder why he even _bothers_ studying - there's no way he can ever use it for anything, after all.  But, well, it's really a pretty simple thing.  He likes to know things.  And learning stuff means knowing more stuff, as useless as it might seem.

And anyway, hell if he's going to let Riku get a better score than him, even if he _can't_ follow them to university.  Riku's score last year was _pathetic_ , after all.

So most of their life consists of school, school, school and studying for school.  And, whenever they have a free moment, fighting each other.  Making sure they don't get lazy, what with all this bloody book-work, as Sora occasionally grumbles.  Bloody is the strongest curse Sora uses, which says a lot about how miserable he's become.  Which is kind of wrong all in itself - Sora's usually such a happy person, after all.  Roxas curses the work often, vehemently and loudly, and it's somehow less offensive than when Sora says even the mildest thing against it.

But all in all, he's so bored that he's almost looking _forward_ to the next party they're having, for the autumn equinox.  It'll give him something _new_ to bitch about, at least.

 

He doesn't go down to the party at all, almost-looking-forward-to-it or not.  Naminé's not going to be there, after all, and it's not like he knows anyone else, since his brother's accosted Riku and Kairi and taken them - he refuses to finish that thought.  Well, there's Axel, but he's not sure if he knows Axel or not.  In the party sense, not in the normal sense of the word.  He's not sure he _wants_ to know Axel in the party sense.  Because he'd have to go down and Be Nice to him, if he did, which would just be... incredibly _wrong_ , really.  Axel's too much of an annoying bastard to be nice to, and he's interesting enough that Roxas doesn't really want to Be Nice at him.  So Roxas stands on the landing above the ballroom for a couple of hours, looking down at the crowd.  He sees a flash of red, once or twice, out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't see Axel.  Not that it'd matter if he did - no way he's going down there.  This alone is enough for him to get his fill of socialising.

Whoever'd organised the party was a sadist, really, though.  It was late enough that everyone was hungry, but early enough that it would've been rude to eat before.  Only, all that's being served is antipasto.  Incredibly cruel.  Roxas had managed to snag a plate of toasted boccaccini-and-semi-dried-tomatoes on slices of baguette off a waiter, and eaten enough of that to last him the night, but that was really the most substantial thing out there.  Olives and paté and proscuitto and such done in a variety of different ways tastes wonderful, of course, and have been done really quite attractively - but they're hardly a meal.

Even more stupid since pretty much everyone down there's drinking - but maybe that's the reason behind it all.  In wine is truth, and all that.  Nasty setup, really nasty.  Probably Wise Guy's idea, though he doubts whoever's technically in charge realises that.  Wise Guy's a bastard like that - Roxas would like little more than to beat his face in.

He curls up in an armchair, and starts re-reading one of his literature books - making notes as he goes along, this time.  Themes and quotes and all of that shit.  It's kind of exceedingly boring - but then, it's a stupid little turn-of-the-century revolutionist piece of crap.  Roxas likes proper stories, with knights and dragons and Noble Quests, not quasi-philosophic anti-monarchy political bullshit.  He has no idea why revolutionist literature is regarded so highly - look at how much of a magnificent failure the revolution had been.  Magical beings just didn't _respect_ elected leaders like they did monarchs.  And that sort of lack of respect was very, very bad.  King Mickey - who had peacefully stepped aside when the masses made their revolutionary intent public - spent fifty years roaming around the countryside, protecting the people from various encroaching monsters, before the government of the time gave up, and called him back to his post.  Most of the nastier problems had cleared up right away.  Some of the bitterest displaced revolutionaries mutter about 'too good to just happen' and 'conspiracy theory' and the like even now - but Roxas has met the king.  There's not a malicious bone in his body... as long as no one is threatening his people, anyway.  He certainly wouldn't've sacrificed innocents just to make a political point, Roxas is sure.  He's too much like Sora.

He's halfway through a particularly difficult sentence - damn wordy anachronisms, anyway - when he's interrupted by a voice.

"You bastard," says the voice.  Axel drapes himself over the back of the armchair as he turns to see who it is.  " _You're_ the one who stole all the decent food."

Roxas raises an eyebrow at him.  "I'd hardly call it _decent_ ," he says dryly.  Axel shrugs.

"More decent than what's down there, anyway."

"That's not difficult."  Axel laughs.

"True, true.  Still, you stole it, you sneak."  Roxas glares at him.

"I _live_ here.  It's my _right_."  Axel laughs again, but it's richer, more vibrant, more _real_.  With him lying across the back of his chair like he is, Roxas can feel his breath across his neck.  It's warm.

He puts his book down, using his notes as a fat sort of bookmark.  Any excuse will do.  "What do you want, anyway?" he says, sounding less grumpy than he means to.  Axel shrugs, or at least Roxas assumes he does.  It's a little hard to tell, with him hunched over like he is.

"Got bored.  Wondered where you were.  You know.  Normal sort of thing."  He grins, then.  "And hey, you have food!  Bonus, right?  Obviously it's always worth my time seeking you out - got it memorised?"  Roxas just looks at him.

"If you're really that bored and hungry, you could just go home, you know."

"Well yeah," says Axel, falling off the back of the armchair sideways, moving his hands as he speaks until he picks up the tray with the food Roxas hadn't eaten on it and slides into the corner of the couch.  He puts his feet up on the cushions.  Roxas isn't surprised.  "But then I wouldn't get to talk to you, so this is better."  Roxas debates going back to his book after all, as Axel starts munching away.  He hopes the bastard stains his gloves - who the hell wears gloves when they're eating finger food, anyway?  That's kind of really gross.

"So, how have you been?" asks Axel between bites.  "I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Fine," he says, reaching for the remains of his drink.  It's a strawberry-and-lemonade mocktale, and he doesn't really like it all that much (hence it still being about a third full), but Axel doesn't need to know that.

Axel doesn't even seem to notice his rudeness - but then, he never does.  It's part of what makes him interesting.

"Busy?" he asks, instead.

Roxas shrugs, trying to dislodge the strawberry stuck at the bottom of his glass.  "Isn't everyone?"

Axel laughs.  "Aren't you a little young to be such a cynic?" he asks, but it's obvious that he's just teasing.

"I was born a cynic," says Roxas, and feels at though it's true.  There must be, logically, some time when he wasn't - but if there was, he can't remember it.  Axel laughs again, a short sharp bark.

"Man after my own heart," he says, and puts the now-finished tray back on the coffee table.  Roxas makes a mental note - Axel eats fast.  (Or is just really hungry, he supposes, but even still.)

Roxas snorts at him, then raises an eyebrow at the way he's looking at him.  "What?"

Axel frowns a little.  It looks odd, on his face.  "You look like shit," he says.

Roxas rolls his eyes.  "You always say that," he says, because even if it isn't _precisely_ true, it's true enough.

"And you always do!" says Axel, flippant again.  He gets up, uncurling more than standing, and looms over Roxas, flippancy fading away as though it never was.

"I mean it, though," he says, brushing fingertips over Roxas' head.  Roxas freezes.  What.  What the hell.  "Get some sleep," says Axel, before disappearing down a corridor.

Roxas stares after him.

 

It's some time or other after midnight - Roxas has no idea; he only knows it's after midnight because they've shut off the floodlights on Twilight Town's station tower - and he's still not gone to bed.  Instead, he's sitting up on the railing, trying to conjugate Latin verbs in his head.  Stupid Latin.  Stupid case-marking system.  Why'd they need to learn a dead language, anyway?  Even if he ever does end up travelling (ha) it's not going to do him any good.

It's cold, outside; it's well into autumn, and it wouldn't surprise anyone if it starts snowing early this year.  He's lost feeling in his butt, due to the cold, and if he doesn't go inside soon, he'll probably get frostbite.  His toes are already starting to go numb.

He doesn't, though, both too contrary-stubborn and wide awake to want to go to sleep.  He'll probably collapse as soon as the sun clears the horizon, he knows, but right now, he couldn't fall asleep if he tried.  He's just that sort of tired.

The door opens, almost-silently.  Roxas ignores it.  He has a feeling he knows who it is.

"I thought I told you to get some sleep," says Axel, from all of thirty centimetres away.

"If I ever start caring about your opinion," Roxas says, looking down his nose at him, "I'll let you know."

"Gee, thanks," says Axel, scowling, almost bitter.  "I'll remember to come to you if I ever want my existence validated.  Ch."  Puffs of steam appear whenever he opens his mouth.  Roxas frowns.  It isn't _that_ cold, is it?  _He's_ not steaming like that...  maybe he _should_ go inside.

"The hell're you doing out here, anyway?" asks Axel, looking at him like he's a complete moron.  Roxas scowls at him.

"I could ask you the same question."  Axel makes a noise at him, and slumps across the railing.  It must be shockingly cold, but he doesn't flinch.  Roxas watches.  He doesn't shiver, either, even though he keeps breathing out mist.

Minutes pass, like this.  Roxas still has no idea what time it is.  He reaches out, scowling, and pulls on a spike of Axel's hair, hard.

The effect is instantaneous.  Axel jumps, glares, pulls his hair close to his head with one hand.

"Ow, what the _fuck_ was that for?" he snarls.  Roxas meets his gaze.

"Now we're even," he says.

Axel stares at him, brow furrowing.  "Even?"  Roxas nods.

"Kid," says Axel, shaking his head, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm not a kid," he grumbles.  He's _not_.  If he could go to the real world, he'd be old enough to get a job, live alone, support himself, all that sort of thing.  He's no child.

"You're _acting_ like one," Axel says with an altogether too reasonable tone.

"I'm _not_ ," says Roxas.

"Then stop acting like you're three and tell me the fuck's wrong with you," says Axel, making jerky, irritated hand movements as he talks.

Oh.  Axel really doesn't get it.  Roxas is kind of confused, at that - how could Axel _not_ get it? - but it calms him down somewhat, too.

Maybe he _had_ been acting like a child.  Maybe.  Just a little.

"You touched me," he mutters, almost under his breath.  "I wasn't expecting it."  Axel stares at him.

"The hell are you talking about?" he says.  "I barely laid a finger on you."

"But you did," says Roxas, looking down into the garden.  "People don't touch me."  He can still feel Axel staring at him.  He supposes it's fair enough, but if he keeps doing it Roxas is really going to have to beat him up.  He's feeling kind of exposed, here.

"Why not?"  And that's the question, isn't it?  How do you say 'I have no close friends and the only people who ever _try_ and touch me are disgusting perverts or predatory bitches so I don't let anyone close enough they can reach' without sounding like a whiny little antisocialite?

Oh, that's right.  You can't.

"They just don't," he says instead.  It's just as true, after all.

"Well that's stupid," says Axel, leaning back up against the railing -too close, too close- and laying his head against his leg.  Roxas jumps up from the railing as if burned, and _kicks the bastard in the face_.  Axel moves with the blow, clearly expecting it this time, and laughs.

"What the hell was that for," spits out Roxas, shaking slightly (it's the cold) and furious.

Axel laughs up at him.  For reasons completely alien to Roxas, it's a friendly laugh.  Nice.  Warm.  With you, not at you.

"What," he all but snarls.

"You are," says Axel, standing up straight again (he still comes up to Roxas' chest, even with Roxas standing on the rail.  Bastard.), "the weirdest bastard I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."  Axel was calling _him_ weird?  Was he a _complete_ retard?

"Is that supposed to be an insult," he says, cold eyes looking down on Axel.

"Oh, no," says Axel, waving a hand and laughing, a silly little grin on his face.  "I think it's adorable."

That's it.  Roxas has _had_ it.  "If you wanted to pick a fight," he says, "you could have just asked."  Because he could have.  Roxas is always up for a fight.  There was no need for all this touchy-feely manipulative crap.  No need at _all_.

"Geez, fuck, I wasn't trying to-" Axel starts, before having to spring back lest Oblivion cut his throat out.  Roxas isn't listening, jumping from the railing to give an aerial strike.  Axel summons his weapons just in time to block, Roxas twists around them in mid air and strikes again.  He's always found fighting in the air easier, for some reason.  Gravity always seems less... pressing, if he's already airborne, and it's much easier to manoeuvre.  He hits, and Axel darts away, turns, comes straight back at him.

 _Clang clang clang clang clang_ \- it's not really a fight.  More like a duel, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, searching for weaknesses without really moving very far.  Roxas doesn't duel very often, though, so he forgets, falls back and circles, presses the attack.  Axel's waiting - he's fast enough to dodge, but he doesn't, just parries, occasionally gets a hit in when Roxas messes up.  That's okay, Roxas is doing the same.  He doesn't notice that Axel's hits are barely grazing him, he doesn't notice that he's barely hitting Axel hard enough to bruise.  He doesn't realise that his movements are getting less jerky, more fluid; that his face has broken out with a fierce grin.

He does, eventually notice the primal joy - the _I am alive I am alive I am_ alive - of the fight, that he only ever feels on the knife's-edge between victory and defeat.  Between life and death.

He laughs.  He feels refreshed.

He feels renewed.

Axel throws a weapon at him.

He jumps back, twists - _reversal!_ \- out of its way, barely parries as Axel passes by him, plucks the weapon back of the air and - freezes.

"Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me," he says, looking up at the clouds.

Roxas frowns at him; what the hell was he - oh.

It's snowing.

Roxas grins - it's _snowing!_ \- but Axel dismisses his weapons and huddles in on himself, scowling.  "Fucking hell," he grumbles almost under his breath.  It's quiet enough outside that Roxas can hear it anyway.  "It's too fucking early for this fucking shit."

Roxas shivers.  Now that he's stopped moving, _fuck_ it's cold.  He can kind of understand Axel's cursing.  Better get inside.  Luckily, they're only a couple of meters from his room.  He jumps up onto the windowsill, and uses Oblivion to pry the window open.  He's glad he'd taken the flywire down a few weeks ago; that would've been hell to do in this weather.  He can feel the heat of his room waft over him, as the window opens.  Central heating, he thinks, is a fucking _awesome_ thing.

He looks down.  Axel's staring at him, one eyebrow raised.  He smirks.

"Come on," he says, and enters.

 

Now that he's actually thought about it, inviting Axel up was probably a really _bad_ idea.  He has no idea what to do.  People don't come to his room - it's _his_ room, after all.

Okay, well, Sora does sometimes, but that's Sora.  It's different.  Sora's always everywhere he's been, and everywhere he hasn't besides.

Axel doesn't really make it awkward, like it could be, though; he just comes in with a fluid grace that ought to be illegal - the window's only maybe a quarter of his height, he really shouldn't be able to squeeze though it and make it look natural - makes a beeline for the air-vent furthest away from the windows, and sits on it, giving the snow outside an evil glower.  Roxas shrugs, closes the window, and goes to find some warmer clothes to put on.  Central heating or not, he doesn't feel all that comfortable wearing just a shirt when it's _snowing_ outside.

He opens his wardrobe, kicks his shoes into it, and tries to find his hoodie, the one with the zips.  The one Sora had tried to convince him to wear today anyway.  The fuck'd it go - oh, there it is.  Right in the corner, where he'd chucked it in annoyance.  That'd be right.

By the time he's pulled it on, Axel is standing at the wardrobe door.

"Interesting, that's _very_ interesting," he says, looking at - oh.  He's looking at Naminé's Weird Picture.  Crap.  Roxas had almost forgotten it was there - it's not like he has the time to stand around looking at his wardrobe door, after all - but even the thought of it still makes him uneasy.  And he's pretty sure he doesn't want Axel looking at it.  Since Axel is a bastard.  And, you know, when he's saying _interesting_ like that, Roxas gets the sense that Bad Things Are Going To Happen.

Like when Sora says "Y'know, I was wondering..."

Also like those times, Roxas is pretty sure that he's already sunk, but damage-control is always a good thing.  At least he's pretty sure pigmy elephants aren't going to be involved the fallout of _this_.

"Uh-huh, right, sure," he says.  "If you want to look at art, there's a heap over there."  He points to the overflowing pin-board with a frown.

"You don't like this one?" asks Axel, one eyebrow raised.  He shrugs.

"It's weird.  The other ones are better."

"Which is why you have it hidden?"  Axel's grinning.  Roxas does not like this grin.  It's not at all trustworthy.

"It's not _hidden_ ," he says frowning.  It's not - this is his room, there's no-one to hide it _from_ , "but the others are all alike, so they go together.  This one is different-"

"Yeah," says Axel, nodding and frowning at it, "It's real."  Roxas makes an annoyed noise.  Was the bastard even listening to him?

"No, _those_ ones are real," he says, pointing.  " _This_ one isn't."  Axel shakes his head.

"Those are memories.  Subjective.  This is non-subjective.  Reality."  

"What it is," says Roxas, _this close_ to hitting him, "is fucking weird."  Axel laughs.

"Of course.  Truth is always the weirdest thing of all."  Roxas just glares at him.  "Seriously!" he says, laughing.  His face is open and honest and Roxas wouldn't trust him as far as he could throw him.

"It's physically impossible," he says, gesturing to the half-and-half sky.

"That," says Axel, waving a finger in front of his face, "is so completely beside the point.  Have you never heard of a _metaphor_?"

Roxas blinks.  _Like a metaphor_ , Naminé had said.  He scowls.  So what.  It's a common word, when you're talking about this sort of sophisticated... arty... thing.

"And If it's true," Axel continues, looking down at him, serious for once, "you're destined for great things."

"Great things," Roxas deadpans.  Riiiiight.  Axel nods, then grins.

"Or at least greater than you're set for now, anyway."  Roxas rolls his eyes.

"Like that's hard," he mutters, and flops down on his bed.

"Well, that's true," says Axel, using his hands to emphasise his point.  He takes one last, long look at the picture - committing it to memory, Roxas assumes - and walks back over, making as if to sit down next to him.  Roxas gives him a warning glare.  He sits on the floor instead, top half spilling over the covers like a particularly spiky blanket.  "But not just that.  Makes you, you know.  Special."  Roxas scowls.  They'd said that about his keyblades, too - and look where _that_ had got him.

"I don't want to be fucking _special_ ," he says.

"Oh?" Axel teases.  "Why not?  Isn't that what _all_ the kids want these days?"  Roxas rolls his eyes at him, and sits up.  Maybe the kitchen would still have some dessert left in it, nevermind it was already - his eye flick to the clock - fuck, already after three.

"It'd get you out of here," Axel says, voice low.  He freezes.  Axel's wearing a smug smirk - like a cat that's got the cream, like he's won the jackpot and knows it.

"Shutup," he snarls, and throws a pillow at the bastard's head.

Unlike Sora, who'd've thrown it back with double the force, Axel just catches it, and lies back, propping it under his head.  "Just saying," he says in a sing-song voice, grin threatening to break open his face, if Roxas doesn't do it first.

"Want me to check it out?" he asks, serious under the teasing.  Roxas shrugs, and squashes the false hope that comes unbidden.

"Like I could stop you if I didn't," he says instead.  Axel laughs.

"True, true."

Roxas lies back down, head facing the wrong end of the bed.  He needs to keep an eye on the bastard, after all.  Even if all he's doing is... is he actually _sleeping_?  No, no, his eyes are open, a bit.  All right.  He _does_ look like he's about to drop off any second, though, and Roxas really can't be bothered getting up and kicking him out.  His muscles protest at even the thought, to be honest.  And it's warm, inside, and he's so tired...

Not that he's going to go to sleep.  He's just going to lie here and keep an eye on the bastard, and if he's still here after dawn, _then_ kick him out.

Not going to sleep.

Not.

 

He wakes up just as the dawn is breaking.

He's not asleep, he's not asleep, he's not - fuck.

He drags himself to the window, and watches the sun rise.  The sky's still dark with clouds, but he can kind of make out its progress.  Kind of, sort of.  It's enough, anyway.

He looks around the room.  Axel's nowhere to be seen.  He checks under the bed and in the wardrobe, though, just to be sure.  Because Axel is unpredictable, if nothing else.

But no, he's gone... to wherever it is he lives, anyway.  Or something.  He's not here, anyway.  Not like it matters, to Roxas, outside of that.

It's only after he has a shower and is about to go down for breakfast that he finds the note.  It's on top of the pillow he'd thrown, which had been placed on his computer chair.  Stupid bastard.  Could've been _weeks_ before he found it.

 _Roxas,_ it says, and _damn_ but does Axel have girly handwriting or what?  Looks more like calligraphy, than normal everyday script, despite the fact it's been written in biro.

 _Thanks for the pillow.  I'll check out that thing for you, like it or not._

 _Later,_

 _Axel._   That's... to the point.  And short, which Roxas is glad of.  Handwriting this girly is damn hard to read.

 _P.S. You're cute when you're sleeping._   Roxas scowls, and chucks the note away from him.  It flips a couple of times mid-air, and lands under his desk.

Stupid bastard.

He goes down to breakfast.

 

He's about halfway through his breakfast - strawberry crepés, bacon and eggs, and yoghurt, with orange juice and coffee - when Sora bounds down the stairs.

"Roxas Roxas Roxas Roxas Roxas!"

"Hmm," he says, with his mouth full.

"It _snowed_!"  He swallows.

"I know," he says.  Sora pulls at his arm.

"C'mon!"  He shakes his head.

"Breakfast," he says.  Sora pouts at him.

"Roxaaaaas~  C'moooon!"  He rolls up a crepé, and shoves it into Sora's mouth.

"Breakfast," he says decisively.

 

They spend all morning outside, playing in the snow.  Fuck study, this is a _tradition_.  No way are they going to let _learning_ interfere with that.

Sora makes the best snow angels.  But Roxas makes the best snowmen, so it's okay.  They're a bit too big to toboggan down the garden, these days - it's at such a light angle that they get stuck halfway down.  They're too heavy.  So they spend most of the morning having a snowball fight.  It's not the sort of fight you can _win_ , as such, but Roxas is pretty happy with how he got Sora right in the face.  Of course, Sora tacked him and put snow down his top in revenge.  But that's the sort of game it was, so he'd just rubbed Sora's face in the snow, and they'd kept going.

Lunch is soup, thankfully.  They're told off for coming to lunch sopping wet, half dressed and red in the face, of course, but, well.

Worth every second.

 

Okay, maybe going out and playing in the snow the first thing in the morning had been a _really fucking stupid idea_ , thinks Roxas, as he sneezes for the umpteenth time.  (Worth it, the back of his mind crows.  He kicks the back of his mind in the head.  He's miserable, damnit!)  He hates being sick.

And, of course, they both are, after that little stunt.  They've been confined to bedrest (it's _only a cold_ , not that serious, sadists!) so he hasn't even seen Sora in days.  And been fed nothing but soup (fucking soup, if he never has it again it'll be too soon.  Really) and water the entire time.  It's enough to drive a man mad, honestly.

He chucks his novel at the wall.  Fucking revolutionist literature.  Fucking sciences.  Fucking mathematics.  Fucking dead languages.  Fucking _study_.  Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Roxas does not deal with boredom well.

He gets up - and that's kind of harder than normal.  Stupid sickness - and retrieves his book.  Stupid it may be, but it's not worth the lecture he'll get if someone finds out he's abused it.  Apparently old books are special, or something.  Not like he cares.  It's still stupid.

...where the fuck's his bookmark gone?  Shit.  He drops to the floor, looks around.  Oh, there it is, under his desk.  He sticks his hand under the desk, and pull it out.

Huh?  What's this?

Oh.  Axel's note.  Stupid bastard.

He's about to throw the damn thing out, when he gets an idea.  Axel.  He grins.  They can't stop him doing _this_ , at least.  Not if he's smart about it, anyway.

He turns the computer on.  It briefly occurs to him that Axel might not be online, after all, but - no, no, there it is, the stupid little chat-box.

 _::I hate everything,_ he types, before it even finishes forming.

 _:...and hello to you too_ , Axel replies.

 _::I'm sick.  I'm allowed to be grumpy._   There's a pause.

 _:Winter got you?_

 _::Shutup._

 _::It was worth it._

 _:Oh?_   ...and that's all he needs, really, to start talking, really talking.  He's so fucking bored... and, well.  Isolated.  Just this little bit of human interaction, such that it is, makes him feel slightly better.

They talk all afternoon, Roxas ducking back into bed when he knows he's about to be checked on.  It depresses him further that he's been sick long enough to have memorised the times.  And it's not like they talk about anything much - new games, the stupid fucking weather, what sort of foods they like.  He rants about his schoolwork a lot.  But it's... nice.  Normal.  Something he's never really had before, other than with Sora.  And Sora's Sora not... whatever Axel is.

He starts almost falling asleep at the keyboard as soon as the sun hits the horizon, though.  That's normal, for when he's sick, but it's still annoying.

 _::I've gotta go,_ he says.  _I'm about to tip over._ He pauses, for a second, and then adds,

 _::Will you be here tomorrow?_

 _:Sure,_ says Axel.

 _:Sleep well_.

 

A couple of days later, he's deemed fit for visiting.  Sora's better already - always is.  Roxas would resent him for it, but he knows it's nothing to do with him, and everything to do with things Sora doesn't even know about - or could change if he wanted to.

In other words, it's not like it's Sora's fault he'd fucked up his immune system, after all.

They mainly do homework - they've both got things due in a couple of days, and being sick's not helped them any.  They'd've at least _started_ beforehand, if they hadn't been, after all.  Really.  But still, it's not the only thing that happens that day.

"Hey, Roxas," Sora says, frowning, though Roxas is pretty sure that's just at the maths problem he's trying to solve.

"Yeah," he says, and forgets to carry a one.

"Am I doing the right thing?"  Roxas just looks at him.  "With Riku and Kairi."

 _Oh_.  No, he wants to say, no, no, not at all.  Well.  Kairi's okay, but _Riku_?  Are you _mad_?

He doesn't.

"Well," he says, thinking about it seriously for once.  The fact that _Sora's_ questioning it is a  strange thing in itself, and Roxas wonders what - or who - brought it on, but it's important to Sora, so...  "You're doing what your heart wants, right?"  Sora nods.

"Yeah."

"And that's important."

"I know."

"And... well."  Roxas shrugs.  "It's you."

"Oh, really?" says Sora, grinning.

"Yeah," he says, punching him in the shoulder lightly.  "And thinking's really not our strong point."  Sora looks kind of pained.

"You don't have to say it like that!"

"It's true, though," he says.

"Well yeah, but-"

"So," Roxas interrupts, "try not to think about it.  And just do what your heart wants, right?  Since it's you, it'll work out.  I'm sure of it."

"Oh," says Sora, with a small, secret smile on his face.  "Okay.  Thanks."  Roxas shrugs.

"It's nothing."

 

Roxas hates midwinter more than anything else in the world.

Not only is it the shortest day of the year, but he's always alone for it.  It's Riku and Kairi's birthday, after all.  Well, technically, it's probably not Kairi's _real_ birthday - but it's the day she and Naminé had been found.  So they all celebrate together, every year.

It means Sora's always gone for the day, and often the days before and after, too.  Like this year.  Normally Naminé drops in for a couple of hours, at least - but she's been taken away, and hasn't even sent him any mail.  He's sent her a couple of emails, but she hasn't replied, and he doesn't know where to send physical mail to.  Neither does Kairi, which is really quite troubling.  He hopes she's okay.

But nevertheless, he hates, loathes and detests midwinter.  Truly abhors it.  He's managed to stay busy all day, doing homework and getting chased out of the kitchen every couple of hours, but it's after ten, now.  All the staff have gone home, or to bed.  All his family's out somewhere else.

He's miserable and alone.  Axel's not even online.

He lies on his bed, feet on his pillows, and tries to will the world away.  Or at least go to sleep.

There's a tapping on his window.  He frowns slightly, then sighs.  Yeah, sure.  Tapping on his window.  Obviously, he's bored enough he's hallucinating.  Damnit.  Well, at least this will maybe mean the time will go faster?

The tapping gets louder.  He opens his eyes and looks, despite himself.  He blinks.  No, there's really something there.  He can't see it clearly, just a flash of red and -

He gets up, and stares.  What the _hell_ is Axel doing on his windowsill?

Freezing to death, probably, he thinks, and gets up and opens the window.  Axel tumbles in, bringing a flurry of ice and snow with him.

"What the fuck," he says, because really.

"Hi," says Axel, grinning.  Roxas puts his face in his hands.

"Axel," he says, and can't see how that makes the idiot's grin widen, "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Um, well, I, uh," says Axel, reaching inside his coat pocket.  "Here," he says, pushing a rectangular package into his hands.

He looks down at it.  It's a clear, plastic box, and so he can see straight inside.  It's a phoenix.  A phoenix _made of toffee_.  He looks back up at Axel.

"Happy midsummer," says Axel.  Roxas stares the idiot.

"It's midwinter," is all he can think to say.

"Not," says Axel, raising a finger dramatically, "where I'm from."

"Oh," he says, looking down at the gift.  "Thank you," he says, in a small voice.  It's not something he's accustomed to saying.

"You're welcome," says Axel, and from the look in his eyes, he's not accustomed to hearing it, either.

He takes the toffee out of its packet, and sets it down on his desk.

"You're not going to eat it?" Axel asks.  Roxas gives him a _look_.

"It's _pretty_ ," he says, because there's no denying _that_.  "So I need to at least take a photo, first.  So I don't forget."

"I see," says Axel, and grins so wide Roxas wouldn't be surprised if his face broke open.

"Have a seat," he says, as he searches in his desk for his camera.  There's not really a whole lot of chairs, in his room, and none that'll really stand up all that well to being dripped on, but, well.  So what.

Axel looks down at him with a blank look in his eyes.  "Second drawer, back right hand corner," he says.  Roxas stares.

"What?"

"The camera.  Second drawer, back right hand corner."  And then, suddenly, he looks exhausted.  Roxas checks - the camera's there.  So he was a technomod, too, as well as a tech-summoner?  Or perhaps, he realises, the type of mod that could use its power to make weapons.  Or something.  Not like he knows anything about that shit.

"Edge of my range," says Axel, flopping down on his computer chair.  He _sprawls_ , Roxas notes.  Takes up more than twice the room he really needs.

"Huh?" he says, having no idea what the idiot had just meant by that, and wondering if he's missed some vital part of conversation.  It's been known to happen.

"I'm a live-tech," says Axel, "so something like that barely registers, especially when it's off.  Like I said, edge of my range."

"I know shit about tech," he says.  It's true.  He doesn't want to know, really.  Axel laughs.

"With the way you use your computer?  I _never_ would have guessed," he says.  Roxas makes a rude gesture at him, and starts taking photos of the phoenix.  It really is pretty, he thinks.  And so detailed!  Almost a shame to eat it, really.  Almost.

He drags his desk chair over to where Axel's sprawling, and breaks off a wing.  Mmmm, toffee.  He offers some to Axel - it's not like he really wants to give the bastard any, but he _had_ brought him it, in the first place.  And he's here.

Axel shakes his head.  "It would be rude," he says.  Roxas raises an eyebrow at him.  "It's midsummer toffee, after all."  Huh.  Well, okay.  Customs can be weird, he knows that.

"Where do you come from, that you give toffee at midsummer," he asks.  Nowhere he's ever heard of.  But then again, he doesn't try and find things out about other places.  It's just too depressing.

Axel shrugs with a roll of his shoulders.  "Little place up in the Northern Reaches," he says.  "I don't remember the name."

"You don't remember where you come from?" he asks.  Right, sure.  Like he'll believe that.  Axel makes a dismissive noise.

"I was shipped off to London when I was pretty young."  He's looking up at the cornices, remembering.  "And then some shit happened, and I don't really remember much before that, any more.  Just fragments.  And then I went through school and moved down here, and there you go!  My life, in a nutshell."  Roxas snorts.

"Damn small nutshell," he says.  Axel laughs.

"Well, yeah.  But I ain't that old yet," he says.  Roxas thinks Axel is _plenty_ old, but lets it slide.  It's not something he actually cares about.

"Still," he says, crunching some of the fine-as-spiderwebbing feathers between his back teeth.  It tastes like sunshine.   "It's a good tradition.  We don't have anything like it."  Unless you counted throwing a party and getting drunk, which Roxas doesn't.  They do that all the time anyway.  And there was a festival in town, of course, but it's not like he's ever been.

"You think?" says Axel, with a grin.  "I don't usually follow it."  Roxas _looks_ at him, and he shrugs.  "...but you seem to hate winter almost as much as I do, so I thought you'd appreciate it."

Roxas can't quite keep the smile from his face.

 

By the time midnight rolls around, Roxas is half-comatose, lying down on his bed.  It's kind of nice, really - his stomach is full of toffee, and his mind is fuzzy enough that he can pay attention to Axel or not, as he pleases.  If only the sinking, trapping feeling of _dark everywhere_ would go away, he might even call it pleasant.

He hates midwinter _so much_.

After a while, Axel stops talking, truth and fiction and pure, unadulterated bullshit no longer rolling off his tongue in a constant, lulling stream.  Well, that's okay, he guesses.  Maybe Axel's sleeping, or something.  That's not a bad sort of thing, he supposes.

And Axel _is_ tired, that much even he can tell.  Isn't waving around his hands as much, more than anything.  Yeah, sleep is good, though he can attest to the fact that sleeping in his computer chair pretty much always turns out uncomfortable.

But Axel isn't sleeping, he's standing over him, looking down at him with a sort of blank expression.  Roxas glares at him.  Don't look down at me, bastard, he wants to say, but eh.  That's too much effort.

Axel trails his fingers down his face, leather surprisingly soft, and he snarls, as best he can.  Hadn't Axel _learnt_ not to touch him?  But he's too sleepy to get up and beat the lesson in again.  He knows he'll regret it later, of course, but right now is... well, it is.  Axel gives him a weird little smile - different from all the other ones.  Less... well, less _that_ and more _this_ , anyway.  He's not so good with this sort of thing, and can't really define the difference, though he does see it.

"I'll see you later," he says, voice soft.  Roxas blinks.

"'Y goin'?"  Why?  Not that he's _complaining_.  It's just weird.  Axel nods.

"Yeah, got work in the morning," he says wry half-smile and shrug.  Oh.  But-  Roxas frowns again.

"'s cold outside.  'n y're wet still."  Axel shrugs again, as if to say 'yeah, well, what can you do?'  Roxas scowls.

"G't sick 'n I'll kill y'," he grumbles.  Axel laughs, under his breath.

"I'll keep that in mind," he says, and leaves.

Roxas is asleep even before he hears the window open.

 

When Sora comes home, two days later, Roxas has taken over the floor of the conservatory, biology notes spread around him.  He's organised the plants into rough categories, and pushed them as far back against the walls as he can.  He's written out all the formulas they need to know on the windows, in permanent marker, big enough that they can be seen across the room.  He'll get in trouble for that, when it comes time to take it off, but he can't find his glass textas.  He's just starting to draw up examples of the graphs they'll need to know, using the tiny tiles on the floor as graph paper, when Sora sticks his head in.

"What the..." says Sora.  Roxas turns, and grins up at him.

"I had an _idea_ ," he says.

"Oooh," says Sora.  "Can I help?"

"You'd _better,_ " he says, and throws him the blue marker.

 

By the end of the day, they've taken over more than half a dozen rooms.  The library has been converted to Literature, the tower-study (which isn't _really_ in a tower, but _is_ round, and so called that) into Philosophy, one of the guest suites into Latin and Ancient Greek, the small dining room into Politics, and so forth.  They'd wanted to use the kitchen for Chemistry, but they're not quite _that_ stupid, so they use one of the larger bathrooms, instead.  They draw up all their maths work on the floor of the ballroom, big enough that you can only actually make out what it says from the balcony above.

The family shakes their collective heads at them, but makes sure they're let be, too.  If it helps them study, it helps them study, and that's always been an uphill battle, so they support it whenever they can.  No matter if it's more than a little inconvenient.  Half of the staff seem to want to hit them, for disrupting their work so much, the others seem to find it more than a little amusing, and cheer them on when they happen upon them, in whichever stage of the rather silly scheme they're in.

The logic is this - if they study each subject in a particular place, then they'll come to associate that place with the subject.  If they've written up the things they need to know all over the room, then all they have to do to remember the things is remember the room.  Come exam-time, they'll be able to remember things a lot easier than if they'd just studied in their rooms, out of books.

Roxas thinks it's a solid idea, Sora thinks it's genius.  Neither of them are sure that it'll actually _work_ , but they don't really care.  If nothing else, it's a good excuse to spend a few days defacing things and not get in trouble for it.  Riku and Kairi, when they visit, tell them they're morons, but nevertheless bring their books over and play along as well.

 

Roxas' least-favourite cousin bitches about all the trouble he now has to go to to hide their genius work and still have a proper party for almost two weeks before the event.  This alone makes it worth every second, Roxas is sure.  And whenever Sora starts to feel a bit guilty, Roxas sits on him, and reminds him of the time he'd ruined their birthday-party, by getting stinking drunk and freezing the entire kitchen solid a few hours beforehand.  (Their cousin isn't anything like a decent mage, let alone a cryomancer - he's just an asshole with a smidgen of talent, and no control whatsoever when inebriated.  Roxas had rather despised him before all of that, but the event had put him to the very bottom of the family, and well beyond redemption, in his view.)

That being said, it's still least-favourite-cousin's birthday, and Roxas is expected to attend, and Be Nice to people.  Sora bodily drags him down to dinner, where the main topic of conversation is, surprisingly enough, least-favourite-cousin.  Also politics, but mainly least-favourite-cousin.  Usually, he sits through the meal in sullen silence.  But this year, he has an idea - he speaks of his cousin's (many) faults loudly, and at length, to the stunned amazement of the guests, until his mother tells him to 'go, just go'.

Plan success!

So now he's stretched out on his floor, playing a hand-held RPG, and eating the perfect cremé bruleé that one of the girls had brought up.  It's a lot better than the fairy-cakes and sticky date pudding they're being served down at the party.  The cooks have never forgiven least-favourite-cousin either, and word gets around pretty quickly.

 _Double_ plan success!

There's a knock on his door.  He scowls, slightly, around his spoon.  It's probably Sora, or Kairi, trying to convince him to Be Nice and come back down to the party.  Like hell he will.

He waves a hand at the door, and it opens silently.  This is his second-favourite by-product of being a keyblade wielder.

"I thought I already made it perfectly clear that-" he starts, setting up the turn's attacks before looking back to see which one it was.  "Oh, it's you again."

Axel gives him an amused little half-wave, one eyebrow raised.

"What're you doing, knocking on my door?" he grumbles.  He's been _enjoying_ his game and his dessert, thank-you-very-much!

"Well," says Axel, "you _did_ insist on me not using the window again."  Which was... true.  He'd ranted for almost ten minutes at him, on the pigheaded foolishness of climbing up to his room when it was below zero and snowing, outside, at midwinter.  And he'd made him promise not to do it again.

Obviously, this doesn't stop Axel visiting, he just does it by less abnormal means.  He sighs, irritable.

"Go and get me a drink," he says.  Axel stares at him, and he rolls his eyes.  "If I'm going to have to put up with your bullshit," he explains, "I at least shouldn't have to do it _sober_."  Because, after all, he has months of experience telling him that once he's here, Axel's probably not going to bugger off anytime soon.

Axel shrugs, and walks over, shutting the door behind him.  A hip-flask is materialised from somewhere, and dutifully placed next to him.  Roxas runs around on the map until he encounters another battle, then peers at it suspiciously.

"What're you playing?" Axel asks, peering over his shoulder.

"Golden Sun," he says, still examining the flask.  It doesn't _look_ like anything other than a hip flask... but there could be anything inside.  He scowls at it, and takes another bite of his dessert.

Axel blinks down at it.

"Is that a... cremé bruleé?" he asks.

"You can't have any," Roxas says, serenely.  "It's mine."

"Fair," says Axel, not exactly thrilled about sharing wet dishes anyway, "but where did you _get_ it?  I'm pretty sure I would've seen one, if there'd been any downstairs."

"I'm awesome," says Roxas, "so the cooks like me."  Axel laughs, then rolls onto his back, pillowing his head on his arms.

"And not your cousin, huh?"

"I don't think _anyone_ likes my cousin," he says, frowning, and finishing the last of the bruleé off.

"Oh, I dunno," says Axel.  "He's pretty amusing."  Roxas stares at the idiot.  Were they talking about the same cousin, here?

"No, I mean it.  It's hilarious.  It's like there's a contest going on, between him and that Riku kid - _who can be the biggest poncy asshole_?"  Roxas snorts, puts his game down very carefully, then laughs until his sides hurt.  Now that he thinks about it, it's _so true_.

Axel grins, and moves so his weight rests on his elbows.  He picks up the hip flask, unscrewing the lid and taking a drink.

"...is that whisky?" Roxas asks, wrinkling his nose.

"Yup," says Axel, offering him the bottle.

He takes it, and peers at it suspiciously.  Smells a lot like alcohol.  He takes a small sip.

"...not bad," he says, kind of surprised.  This isn't the sort of stuff they let the kids have, at any rate.  Axel just smirks at him.

He takes another sip, then puts it down.  Not bad, but strong.  He's not looking to get pissed - he'd only really told Axel to go and get him a drink to see if he _would_.  And of course the bastard had chosen the previously-hidden option C.  Typical.

He picks his game back up, and kills the enemies onscreen that've been patiently waiting.  He checks the stats - no, not _quite_ ready for Collosso yet, he had better keep levelling for a while.

"So," says Axel, "how've you been?"  He shrugs.

"School."  It pretty much describes everything.

"School's important," says Axel, nodding.  He even seems to _believe_ it.  Roxas makes a noise at him.

"It's useless," he grumbles.  Axel raises an eyebrow at him.

"I would have thought you're too intelligent to believe that," he says.  Roxas scowls at him.

" _Learning_ is useful.  We're not fucking learning anything, except how best to cheat at exams." he says.

"But if you pass well enough, that's useful."  Roxas refuses to look at him, and instead bashes the buttons on his game rather hard.  Die, armoured rat, die.

"Not for _me_ it's not."  Axel laughs at him - _laughs_ , the bastard.

"It will be," he says.  "Got it memorised?"  Roxas scowls even deeper, puts down his game, and throws the now empty cremé bruleé dish at his head.

Axel laughs and dodges, of course, and it sails past his ear to bounce harmlessly on the carpet.

He shuts up, after that, and Roxas is forced to admit that the bastard _might_ have _some_ self-preservation instincts.  He levels up for a while, tries his luck at the Tolbi Springs until he has an assassin blade or two, and is just about to enter Collosso itself, when Axel sits up from where he's been lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.  He's still peering at his roof, though, a kind of bemused expression on his face.

"You," he says, "have stars on your roof."  Roxas blinks at him.

"I do," he says.  So what?  It's hardly unusual.

"In a fairly accurate representation of the night sky."

"Of course," he says.  Why do it, if you weren't going to do it _properly_?

"Why?"  Roxas raises an eybrow.  What sort of question is that?

"Because glow-in-the-dark things have always been fucking awesome?"  It is a Deep Truth, this one.  _Everything_ is better if it glows in the dark.  Well.  As long as it's good in the first place, anyway.  Axel looks thoughtful, for a second.

" _True_ ," he says.

"Exactly," says Roxas.  Axel gives him a look he doesn't quite understand, then shrugs.

"Well, I'd better get back.  Catch'ya later, Roxas!"

"Later," he says, as Axel leaves the room.

 

For three days - three days! - in a row, Roxas has woken up in the morning with the most obnoxious passage from the damn revolutionist novel running through his mind.

Three fucking days.

- _verily, the monarchy is a noble institution," says Gaston, "But it is long out of date, it is oppressive, it stands firmly in the way of progress!"_

 _"Progress, pah," says the drunken monarchist, "It is more important that we -we are safe from - from monsters, you fool!"  He then falls into a deep slumber, that only the truly irredeemable can sleep._

 _"No, my friends," says Gaston, to the remainder of the group.  "Like the tentacle monster, the monarch's rule over fell creatures is pure hearsay and superstition!  If there have been less monster-related deaths and injuries in recent years, it is due to technology!  To magio-science!  To_ progress _, my friends_ , progress. _Only in pro-_

And that's usually the point Roxas tells his Inner Mind Theatre to _shut the fuck up_ , and drags himself straight into the shower.  Running water helps a great deal, with this sort of thing.

Obviously, he tells himself, he's studying too hard.  But there doesn't seem to be any other option, either - he has things due in almost every day, at the moment, and when he's not in a mad scramble to get the latest thing done, he has homework that needs doing.  Other than that, all he does is eat, and fight, and occasionally sleep.  He hates this, so, _so_ much.  So much.

But still, if he wants to beat Riku, what else can he do?  (It's not like there's any reason to do it otherwise, after all.  No matter what Axel says, he's certain he'll never go to the University.  If he ever does get out of here, he'll be too old, anyway.  But beating Riku _is_ important.  Bastard needs it, after all.)

He dresses, not bothering to dry - or comb - his hair, and makes his way down to breakfast.  He'd been up until half past two last night, finishing his essay for the damn literature class.  Maybe, after it's handed in and _done_ , the stupid revolutionist novel will leave his brain.  He hopes so, anyway.

"You're wet," is the first thing Sora says, as he comes in when Roxas is buttering his toast.  He makes a grumbling, irritated noise at his brother, and rather viciously cuts his breakfast into triangles.

But of course Sora, being Sora, just calmly walks over and gives him a giant good-morning hug.

"Hi," he says, face in Roxas' hair despite the wetness.  Roxas grumbles again, and flails a little.  Not seriously, but enough to let Sora know he protests this barbaric treatment.  Sora, of course, ignores him utterly.  This is not an unusual exchange, at the breakfast table, though there's usually a lot more shouting involved on Roxas' part.  But Roxas is fucking tired, so Sora will just have to make do with grumbling.

"Whassamatter," says Sora, and, since it's Sora, he answers.

"Tired," he says.

"Essay?"

"Yeah."

"What time?"

"Half-two.  You?"

"Quarter to four."  Roxas raises an eyebrow, at that.

"You haven't been to bed yet, have you?"

"It'd just make me tireder," Sora says, and shrugs.  Which is probably true.  Roxas eats his toast, as Sora sits down and pours a big bowl of the sugariest cereal he can reach.  This is normal.  The fact that he adds another four or five teaspoons of sugar isn't.

"Coffee," says Roxas.  Sugar's not going to keep him awake the whole day.

"I hate coffee," says Sora.

"I know," he says, and pours them both a cup.  There's a brief scuffle as they fight over the sugar-bowl - Sora wins, since it'd been next to him in the first place - and they both dump in enough sugar that their spoons almost stick upright.  It's the only way to eat coffee, in their humble opinion.  Stupid bitter stuff.  But good at keeping them awake, at least.

Finished with his toast, Roxas goes over to the hot breakfast proper.  Bacon, he thinks, will be his protein today.  He grabs some of that, and a couple of danishes, and - oh, the cooks, they're wonderful, wonderful creatures.  He grabs the entire stack of chocolate-chip pancakes, and takes them over to share with Sora.  Wonderful creatures, indeed.

They makes short work of them - sugar _and_ caffeine, what else could they ask for? - and vacate the breakfast nook just before least-favourite-cousin comes in.  He's still mad at Roxas, for his birthday, and at Sora, because, for some reason, he thinks Sora's responsible for Roxas' actions.  That, or he hasn't even realised they're separate people.  They're not sure, really.  He should - they _are_ his cousins, after all - but they get that, sometimes.  It's really annoying.

"Oh, yeah," says Sora, as they're going back to their rooms, to get the stuff they need for classes.  "You have mail."  Roxas blinks.  He _never_ has mail.

"I saw it, yesterday.  Forgot to tell you, sorry."

"It's fine," he says, because it is.  He wonders who it's from.  He's curious enough that he parts from Sora, when they reach the stairs, and goes straight to the pigeonholes.  And, sure enough, there's something there for him.  It's one of those big, yellow envelopes, so it's not just a letter.  And the address is hand-written so it's - he recognises that handwriting.  It's from _Naminé_.

He opens it, carefully.  It's pretty thin, so it mustn't be a very _long_ letter - but then why the big yellow envelope?

There's only one sheet of paper inside.  He pulls it out, and recognises the texture.  Photopaper; it's a print.

 _It's a bird - or maybe a cat.  He can't tell which, really, however that works, but whatever it is, it's proud and fierce and tied up in chains_.

It's supposed to be him, he realises, quickly enough.  The feathers? fur? is the same colour as his hair, and the eyes are done the same way Naminé _always_ draws his eyes.  He scowls.  Another weird one.  Even weirder than the last.  He turns the piece of paper over, hoping for a note.

There had been one, but it's been well and truly blacked out.  All that remains are two words, which he guesses must be the title.  _Thirteen Chains_.  He scowls at it.  Why'd she cross out her note?  Why hadn't she sent any mail before, anyway?

She mustn't be allowed, he realises, finally.  Not allowed to send mail.  Having it crossed out if you tried.  What sort of barbaric place _is_ Castle Oblivion?  He'd heard it was bad, but not _this_ bad.

He walks back up to his room, thinking fiercely, and puts the new weird picture up next to the other one, without even really noticing what he's doing.  He gathers up his books, and assignments, and everything, and goes to class.  He's distracted the whole day.

 

The problem, he realises, later that afternoon, flopped out next to the pond down the back, with a couple of sendings demanding skritches on his chest, is that even if he _does_ know what's going on, there's nothing he can _do_ about it.

Absolutely nothing at all.  He can't even do anything about his _own_ life, let alone anyone else's!  He can't be his own person, he can't protect his friends, he can't do _anything_ , and it hurts.  So much.

Angry and frustrated and impulsive, he gets up, tries to climb the fence, to leave.  He hasn't done this for a few years now, maybe it's won't be as bad.  Maybe he'll be able to endure it.

His hands twitch, and spasm, as soon as he touches the wall, and by the time he falls back, unable to take it any more, his nails have gone black, his hands a mottled purple.  Bruised, he knows.  He walks rather unsteadily over to the lake, and shoves his hands into the water.  The snow had melted only a few weeks ago, and the water's freezing.  He doesn't leave them in there long - he doesn't want to get frostbite on top of bruises, after all - but he's pretty sure they won't get any worse, which is something.

"Well, that was stupid," he says.  Answers that question, anyway.  He's well and truly stuck here.  Hadn't even made it to the top of the wall - he doesn't even want to _think_ about what actually _crossing_ the barrier would do.  There's no point being free if you're dead, after all.

Roxas will do a lot of things, but dying's not one of them.

One of the sendings he'd been patting sits on his feet, and looks up at him.  He's pretty sure it's sad.  He sits back down, and strokes its head.

"'m okay," he tells it.  It nuzzles back up against his hands, and he could have sworn he heard it chirrup.

 

He wears gloves, for the next two weeks.  Bad enough that Sora knows he's fucked up his hands somehow (though Roxas, of course,  refuses to tell him what happened), since they eat together, but he doesn't want the grown-ups on his case, too.  Sora's bad enough on his own, since he's so _persistent_ about the whole thing - but that's Sora all over, and Roxas can't help but be fond of that, in an annoyed kind of way.

Wearing gloves all the time, even if it's only for a little while, reminds him of Axel, who he's never seen without.  That's kind of weird, right?  But then again, maybe it isn't.  No one he knows does it, but it's not as though he knows all that many people.

Even after two weeks, he's still sure that eating with gloves on is disgusting, however.

 

Roxas had forgotten they were having a party until the guests started arriving.  It's incredibly annoying - he'd been _using_ that ballroom, damnit!  It's not a party that has anything to do with him, of course; exams start in two weeks, and they're, for lack of a better word, cramming.  Everyone agrees it's an awful strategy, but no one can think of a better one, either, so that's what they're stuck with.

Five weeks left.  Five weeks.  He can do it that much longer.

He returns to his room, with a grump.  He's really not in the mood to deal with socialising, tonight.

About ten, though, he finally gives up, and chucks his pen across the room.  The wall across from him is much used to this treatment, and has become slightly blue, from all the ink splashes.  He's tired, but not in a way that would let him sleep - his body has been neglected, and is complaining about such.  He bounces around the room, and decides to go for a run, or something.  It's a full moon out, and still cold enough that he doubts anyone will be on the grounds.  He opens his window, and flips up to the tiled roof above.  He's about to just run, and leap off, down to the garden, when he notices a flash of red on the roof proper.

He pauses.  "Hi Axel," he shouts, waves, _then_ leaps off.

 

The gardens are very pretty, in the moonlight, Roxas thinks.

Always have been, of course, but he's just noticing it now.  This is possibly because Roxas is more likely to notice how lovely his surrounds are when they're being destroyed.

...it's not that he's doing it on purpose.  It's just that, well, sometimes things get in the way.  That's all.  He's not even fighting _seriously_ , either, but, well.  Even playful or not, beating up Axel is more important than preserving plants.

They don't fight for long, either, just long enough that Roxas uses up his mad, mad, confinement-induced adrenaline.  He flops down on the grass, looks up at the moon, and laughs.  Axel sits down and leans against the trunk of a tree, and looks down at him.  He's smiling, and has an odd sort of expression on his face.  Roxas doesn't even try and figure out what it is, this time.

"Hi," he says, instead, and beams.

"Good Evening," says Axel, very proper and serious and completely taking the piss.  He laughs again.

"How've you been?" he asks. Axel shrugs.

"Not bad.  And let me guess - exams?"

"Two weeks!" says Roxas, and puts his hand over his face, so he won't start seeing patterns in the stars.  Axel laughs.

"I don't envy you one bit," he says.

Roxas peeks through his fingers to glare at him.  "Now, why does everyone say that, I wonder?"

Axel smirks.  "Because it's true, silly."

Roxas snorts.  "Damn right it is."

The sit in silence, for a moment, until Roxas scowls, and sits up.  He reaches down, and chucks away the stone that had been digging into his spine.  Stupid rocks.  He leans back down, and crosses his arms behind his head.  It's kind of nice, to be outside at night.  If kind of cold, once he's stopped with the moving around.

He sees movement, out of the corner of his eye, and turns his head.  Axel's got a small metal box, and is - ah.  It's a cigarette-case, and he's taking out a smoke.

Axel licks the cigarette and flips it.  The end glows in the dark, smoke curling up around Axel's face, down his throat as he takes a drag.

 _Pyromancer_ , thinks Roxas, and is somehow not surprised.

He should be, of course.  Pyromancers are rare and dangerous and not fit to appear in public.  Or so say the newspapers, anyway, but the only time they ever get into the news is when they fuck up, so Roxas isn't entirely sure about that.

But Axel is the weirdest guy he's ever met, and now that he knows it, he can't imagine him as anything else.

"I didn't know you smoked," he says.  Axel shrugs, grins.  It looks sort of different, with his hand so near his face.

"I don't, anymore," he says.  Roxas pointedly raises an eyebrow at him.

"I don't!" he laughs.  "Just once a year."  Roxas _looks_ at him, flat-eyed.

"'Just once' is still 'doing it'," he says.

"Weeeeell," Axel drags the word out, then breathes out in a puff of smoke.  "Technically, yeah.  And yeah, deadly poison, it'll still kill me, blah blah blah, I know all about it."  Breath in, smoke out.  "But the only real reason I quit was that it was too much of a pain in the ass to find somewhere I was allowed to smoke, so!"  He makes a dramatic gesture with the hand that has the cigarette.  It glows abnormally bright in the darkness.  "Once a year's not so bad."

"That," says Roxas, "doesn't explain a thing."  Axel laughs again, softly.

"Oooh, busted.  Can't get away with anything, with you on my case.."  Roxas tilts his head, just enough to let Axel know he's _waiting_ , damnit.

"It's silly," he says.  "Just a silly thing."  He looks at Roxas over his shoulder, smiles a little, and sighs dramatically.  "For remembrance," he says, and no matter what he does, Roxas can get him to say no more.

They go inside after about an hour, and despite the house still humming with people, Roxas falls asleep straight away.

 

"All these plants make me want to burn something," says Axel, walking into the conservatory.

"So burn something," says Roxas, from where he's re-colouring one of the graphs, on the floor.  They've been trodden over enough that they've become too faint to make out properly, from a distance.

Axel blinks at him.  "What, seriously?"  Roxas shrugs.

"Not like I care about them.  They're just plants."  Axel laughs, and sprawls out on a couch.

"Well, that's mighty kind of you," he says, "but I suppose I'd better not.  Probably a whole heap of smoke detectors, and shit, around here."

"Probably?"  Wasn't Axel a technomod?

"Noooot my sorta thing, really.  I mean, you've got a massive system all through the house, I can tell you all about _that_ , but..." he lets it hang, and Roxas doesn't care enough to beat the rest out of him.  Instead, he gets up from the floor, and hands Axel a marker.

"The formulas on the little windows got smudged.  Go fix them," he says.  Axel raises an eyebrow at him.  "Yes, you, now go do it."

Maybe if Axel's doing something productive, and not lounging about, Roxas can figure out why he's here, after all.

 

By the time he's done with the graphs, Roxas has multicoloured forearms, and is no closer in figuring out the random appearance of Axel.  Not that that's surprising - he hasn't been able to figure out why the idiot's done anything else, either.

Axel himself had only spent a few minutes, touching up the formulas, and has re-settled himself back on the couch, and is, of all things, reading a book.  Roxas is moderately curious as to what's being read, but it's one of the old, leather-bound types, with nothing useful on the outside.

"All right," he says, exasperated, "I'll bite.  The fuck are you doing here?"  Axel blinks down at him, for a long second.  Ahahaha, no.  He's not falling for that.  Axel smirks.

"Well, you know.  Figured I'd come and give you... what do they call it?  Moral support."  Roxas raises an eyebrow at him.  Riiight.

"Seriously!"  Suuure.  Roxas sighs.

"Should know better than to attempt to get an answer out of you," he says.  Axel looks wounded.  It's incredibly put on.

"Oh, now that's cruel.  Do you really think so little of me?"  Roxas looks at him, flat-eyed.

"Yes."  Axel laughs.

Roxas proceeds to ignore the bastard for a full ten minutes, though he can feel Axel watching him, which is more than a little annoying.  Stupid bastard, coming in and bugging him the day before his thrice-damned Biology exam, what was he trying to prove?  That he was the biggest ass on this side of Alfitaria?

Not that that would surprise Roxas, the more he thinks about it.  It's sort of an Axel thing to do.  Even though, considering the amount of assholes in the area, he's nowhere near the top of the bracket.  Not that that means he's not an ass, 'cause he is, just not as much as one as, say, Wise Guy.

After ten minutes, though, Axel attempts to hit him on the head with his book.  Roxas scowls, and catches Axel's wrist before the book gets within striking range.  Sure, he's spending all his waking hours studying, at the moment, but that doesn't mean he's got _weak_.

"C'mon," he says, "you're not actually learning anything."  Which is actually completely true, but he doesn't need someone point that out, _thank you very much_.

"Fuck off," he says, and twists Axel's wrist a bit.  Bastard doesn't even have the decency to wince.

"Nah, I mean it," he says.  "You're not learning anything, a break will do you good."

"Feh," says Roxas, shoving Axel's arm and book back towards the bastard.  The spine, he can see, now that it's up close, was once embossed in gold, though he still has no idea what it says - it's long since been worn off, and in a language he can't read besides.  He turns back to his notes, intending to go on ignoring Axel.  He sits back in his seat with a _flumph_ , and Roxas has a small moment of satisfaction, until Axel opens his mouth again.

"Hey, I know what I'm talking about!" he says, protesting Roxas' total dismissal.

Roxas makes a noise, under his breath.  Axel makes a noise back.

"I've sat more exams than you, after all."  Roxas Does Not Say Anything.  That means _nothing_.

"And passed them all," Axel adds, and Roxas can just _tell_ he's rolling his eyes.  "And, you know, it's not like-"

Roxas sighs.  "You're not going to shut up until I agree with you, are you?" he says.

"Nope!" says Axel, and Roxas really, really believes it.  Stupid bastard.  He looks down at his biology work.  It really is incredibly boring.  He sighs again, puts down his pen, and gets up.

"If I fail my exam..." he threatens.  Axel grins.

"You'll dropkick me off the roof, or something, I know," he says.  Roxas gives him his nastiest glare, on the way out.  It's not until a few days later that he realises he hadn't - not once! - even thought of kicking Axel out.

 

They go up to the roof, without either of them saying a word.  It just seems like the natural things to do, which is kind of weird, when Roxas thinks about it, so he tries not to.

It's not a warm November, but it's still nearly summer, and so while it's not hot, outside, it _is_ warm.  Roxas perches on one of the wicker-and-iron chairs, sitting on the back, his feet on the seat.  Axel sprawls out on a banana lounge, somehow making it look like his all limbs are falling off the edges, despite the fact that he's only about half as wide as the banana lounge is, and skinny.

And it's nice, you know?  To just get out of the house, as much as he ever can, and just... do nothing.  Ignore the guilty little voice that tells him this is fucking stupid, and just enjoy the moment, for a while.  He closes his eyes, and feels the wind on his face.  It's nice, but...

"Gonna rain soon," he says.

"Yeah, probably," says Axel, looking up at the cloudless sky.  "So what's the plan for next year?" he asks, and actually seems genuinely curious.  Roxas shrugs.

"Nothing I really can do," he says.  Play video games, try and get stronger... he point-blank refuses to enter politics, and he's not old enough to be responsible for looking after any other part of the family.  He tries not to think about a winter with no work to distract him.

Axel raises an eyebrow at him.  "What, no hobbies, or anything?"  Roxas shrugs.

"Nothing I don't already do anyway."  Why do something if you're not serious about it?

"Not interested in studying?"  Roxas _looks_ at him.

"Axel," he says, slowly and carefully, using small words and simple language, so the idiot understands, "the University is over _there_.  And all the _other_ Universities are _out of the city_."  Axel makes an annoyed noise at him.

"I know _that_ ," he says.  "But you can always do correspondence."  Roxas shakes his head.  He'd looked into that.

"Even correspondence requires you to go down there a few times," he says.  Axel frowns, putting his chin on a hand.

"Huh, 'spose it would, wouldn't it?  Student card, and shit."  Roxas gives him a look - _see?_ \- but Axel ignores him, deep in thought.

"You can probably get around it, if you annoy people enough," he says.  Roxas scowls.

"It says-"

"Yeah, yeah, I _know_ what it says, believe me.  But you can get around it."  He grins.  "You'd be _surprised_ what hoops people will jump through, to get someone sponsored  by a member of staff on the books."

"Yes, _well_ ," says Roxas, caustic.  "That would involve a, me _knowing_ an academic, and b, getting them to sponsor me."  Which is completely different, and so, _so_ not happening.

Axel grins.  "Hi," he says, raising a hand.  Roxas _stares_.

" _You_ work at the University?" he says, more than a little incredulous.  He'd been rather sure that somewhere like the University would only employ.  You know.  _Competent_ people.  Not that he's not sure that Axel's good at whatever he really does, but he's really, _really_ not what Roxas has ever thought of as academic material.  At all.  Ever.

"Of course", says Axel, laughing.  "Who else would have me, pyromancer and technomod both?"

"You're a _teacher_?"  Axel laughs again.

"Oh, _hell_ no.  Research, man, research.  No way I'm gonna look after a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears savages that're gonna drop the subject after first year anyway."  Roxas looks at him, eyes flat.  That's his peers, he's talking about, and though he's sure it's true for most of them, _well_.  Axel shrugs.  "I do some older classes, 'cause of requirements, but that ain't teaching, it's just telling them where they fucked up and belittling them until they figure out how to fix it."  That... well, it _does_ sound like Axel, he has to admit.  Ass.

"So, what," he says.  "You figure out how best to make tech blow up, or something?"

"Sometimes!" says Axel, looking a little bit _too_ pleased with himself.  Roxas glares at him.

"And they _pay_ you."

"Yeah, it's kind of great."  He shrugs.  "But mostly I work in computer science, mainly network software, and encryption."  Roxas only has the slightest idea what that means, but...

"Which is why you can hack into my machine so easily."  And why he's online during the daytime.  Axel makes an annoyed noise.

"A toddler could hack into your machine," he says, "but yeah, more or less."  Roxas scowls.  There's nothing wrong with his machine!  ...but they've had this conversation before, and there're more interesting things to talk about right now.

"The hell'd give _you_ a degree, anyway?" he grumbles.  Axel's a weirdass unpredictable asshole.  He shouldn't have a respectable job!  It's just not right.  Axel just laughs at him.

"Degrees are easy," he says, folding his hands behind his head, and crossing his ankles.  "The doctorate was kind of challenging, but hey, learning always is, right?"  Roxas stares, for a long moment, then buries his face in his hands.

"I'm not hearing this," he says, because.  Just no.

"What?" says Axel, defensive.

"You can't be a doctor," Roxas says.  "You're too... _you_."  Even for Axel, that was just _too weird_.

"I know," says Axel.  "It really is sort of embarrassing."  And he actually does seem sort of humiliated by that.  Just a little.

"But hey," he says, looking back up at the sky.  "No one else would have me, and at least they've stopped trying to give me nameplates now."  Roxas blinks.

"Nameplates?" he repeats.  It's about all his brain is up to, right now.

"Yeah.  It's bad enough to be it, let alone have it proclaimed to the world."  He grins.  "But they stopped after they realised I was just covering them up with comics and macros and bits of dead microprocessors, at least."  Macros... obviously, Roxas is missing at least one definition of that word.  "And so, if you ever want to visit me when you go to the University, that's how you find my door.  It's pretty distinctive."

"Riiight," he says.  Yeah, sure whatever, but... "You're really an academic."

"Yeah, for the minute."  Axel laughs.  "I keep telling myself I'll get a real job one day, but, well, yeah."

"Right, okay."  He pauses for a moment, trying to integrate this new information into his world view.  "I think I need ice-cream."  Axel raises an eyebrow at him.  He scowls back.  "You stay here," he says, jumping down into the garden, and enters the house through the back door.

 

When he gets to the kitchen, he realises he has no idea what kind of ice-cream Axel likes.  So he just guesses.  If the bastard doesn't like it, well, too bad.

 

He comes back up to the roof via the stairs.  It's not that he can't make it back up the way he went down, it's just kind of difficult with two bowls of ice-cream in hand.  (He _can_ do it, and he has before, but, well, it's not really worth the effort.)

He sits back up on his chair, and shoves Axel's bowl under his nose, dropping it after half a second, so the bastard has to catch it.

"...it's _orange_ ," says Axel, looking at it like it's about to try and eat his hand off.  Roxas makes an annoyed noise.

"It's _jaffa_ ," he says.  Didn't the idiot know _anything_?

"Ice-cream's not supposed to be orange," Axel continues on, as if he hasn't heard Roxas at all.  Perhaps he hadn't.

"Just eat it," says Roxas.  Axel shoots him a suspicious look, but takes a tentative bite.  He blinks, frowns, and takes another.

"It's... not bad."  Another bite.  "Not bad at all."

"Ha," says Roxas.  "I told you."  He digs into his with a relish.  Axel gives it an equally suspicious look.

"Yours is _blue_ ," he says.

"Yup," says Roxas, between bites.

"The hell kind of ice-cream is _blue_?"  Roxas grins.

"Sea salt."  Axel stares at him, for a long second.

"You know, I just don't want to know," he says.

They don't talk much after that, just eat their ice-cream, and when that's done, sit around in the sunshine.  After, well, a while, Roxas isn't really keeping track, he decides to ask something that's been on his mind for a while  now.  It's not really important, or anything, he'd just... like to know.

"We're friends, right?"

After a long moment, Axel replies, "Well.  Yeah.  Yeah, I guess we are."

"Best friends," says Roxas, and Axel says, "Sure."

It's the last they speak of it.

 

Axel leaves about five.

"Things to do," he says, with a grimace.  "Good luck on your exam, hey?"  Roxas' mouth twitches.

"Thanks," he says.

"Later!"

"Later, Axel."

Roxas doesn't watch him leave, and instead goes back down to the conservatory.  Argh, biology.  But less than 24 hours, now.  Less than 24.  He can do it.

"Where've you been?" he's asked, as soon as he walks in the door.  Ahh.  Sora's there, with Riku and Kairi.  He shrugs.

"On the roof," he says.  Which is true.

"Slacking off before the exam, huh?  How... _predictable_."  Roxas ignores Riku, he really does.  That pen being kicked into his face?  Totally an accident.  A fluke.  Nothing to do with him at _all_.

He sits down on the floor, gathering up his notes to read through yet again.

"How are you feeling?" asks Kairi, looking worried.  Roxas thinks about it.

"Kind of zen," he says, which is odd, but he doesn't have it in himself to complain.

They study together for a couple of hours, before dinner.  It's not at all nice, it's stressed and frantic, but Roxas' calm holds through, more or less.

They have roast chicken, for dinner, with several different sorts of salads, and spend the meal discussing whether or not it's quite hot enough, for that, yet.  (They all enjoy it, regardless of if it's appropriate or not, but arguing's something to do that doesn't involve school, and is a tradition besides.)  Dessert is baked cheesecake, however, and no-one has a bad word to say about _that_.

 

Sora throws a giant end-of-exams party, and invites pretty much everyone he knows, that's had any.  Primary school kids trying to get scholarships for high school, students at the University, even people he knows have had to take a test or something for work.

And Sora knows a _lot_ of people.  Roxas doesn't remember the house _ever_ being this crowded before.  Even his roof's packed.  He has no choice, but to participate, such that it is.

Of course, Roxas' idea of participating is to curl up on a couch in the darkest, quietest corner he can find, preferably with a drink of some sort, and glare the life out of anyone that approaches, but hey.  It's something, at least.  He hasn't retreated to his room.  (Even though that's more because he knows that if he stays in there he'll be able to hear everyone on the roof, and it's quieter down here, but still.)

He's managed to get his hands on something red and fizzy, though for some strange reason it tastes more like watermelon, than raspberry.  And a cupcake, with white chocolate icing with sprinkles, which is rather nice.

It's a good corner, that he's sitting in, actually; people ignore him, for the most part, and those that don't are quickly discouraged.  Until a red-and-black blob flops down beside him, with nothing so much as a 'hello', or even a 'can I sit here?'.

"What're _you_ doing here," he grumbles.  "You didn't have exams."

Axel gives him a very put-upon face.  "I _set_ exams.  And I'll have to _mark_ them.  That's just as bad!"

Roxas raises an eyebrow at him, Axel raises one back.  He rolls his eyes, and makes a noise.  "Right, sure."

"It is!"  Axel pauses.  "Well, if you want to write a _good_ exam, anyway.  I mean, I know one crazy bitch in the philosophy department just set a true-or-false exam."  Roxas thinks about it, for a second.

"How does that even _work_?"  Axel shrugs.

"Fucked if I know," he says, not just sprawling over the couch, but _leaning on Roxas_.  Roxas debates breaking the bastard's nose, then decides that's probably what the idiot _wants_ , and settles for jabbing him in the ribs.  Viciously.

Axel, of course, takes absolutely no notice, but it does make him feel somewhat better.  Stupid bastard.  "Anyway," he continues, "congratulations."  Roxas shrugs, and makes a noise.  So he'd finished his exams.  Big deal.  Axel laughs.

"Have you played the new Mario game yet?"  Roxas shakes his head.

"Not yet."  He's been sleeping, mainly, and finishing off the second of the _Golden Sun_ games.  "Any good?"

"It's incredibly fucked-up, and pretty easy."

"So just as expected, then?"

"More or less, yeah.  It's good at what it does."  They talk about games, and other stupid shit for a few hours, and if anyone thinks it's odd, that Roxas is actually talking to someone, well, at least they don't _say_ anything.  It's hardly any of their business, after all.

 

Sora pounces on him, at breakfast.  While Roxas was pretty much expecting it, it's still really annoying.

"What," he says, after he shoves Sora off and remembers how to breathe.  It's not that Sora's all that heavy, but he'd been going at quite a speed.

"You," says Sora, grinning, "were talking to someone.  I _saw_ you."  Roxas sighs.  Why is he not surprised?

"Yes, and?" he says.  It's none of _Sora's_ business, either, after all.

"You _never_ talk to anyone!"

"I talk to you all the time," he points out.  Sora waves his hand around, dismissive.

"That's me.  It's different."  Which is true, but still.

"So what," he grumbles, getting up.

"So," says Sora, tripping him over and sitting down on his back.  "I wanna know about it!"

"Get off!" he demands, knowing fully well it'll never work.

"Tell meee," says Sora, grinning at him upside-down.

"No.  Get off."

"Roxaaaas," he whines.  "I'm your _big brother_.  I need to know these things!"

"No you don't, and only by _thirteen minutes_ , dumbass."

"Older is still older!  And I need to know!"

"Do not!"

"Do _so_!"

"Do not!"

"Do so!"

"Do _not_ , and I'm definitely never going to tell you," he says, sticking his nose in the air.  Sora looks injured.

"Why not?"  Idiot looks like he's about to _cry_.

"Because you're _sitting on me_."  He refuses to put up with this sort of abuse!  Sora scowls at him, and gets up.  He boots Roxas in the ribs, before _he_ can get up, but he's not actually mad; nothing broke, or anything.

"Mean," says Sora.

"Yeah, well, _you're_ not the one that got assaulted before breakfast."  Breakfast is Very Important.  Sora pouts.

"But I wanna know," he says.

"And I wanna eat!"

"Fiiiine," says Sora, greatly put-upon.  "But tell me after that!"

"Maybe," says Roxas, shrugging.  On the one hand, it's none of Sora's damn business.  On the other, he knows that Sora definitely won't give up and leave him alone.  Or at least not for _days_.  Sora's like that.  Normally, it's something he approves of.  Normally.

He has scrambled eggs on toast, for breakfast, and muesli, and a croissant.  And pineapple juice, to go with it.  As he's eating, he wonders what, if anything, to tell Sora.  Sora _is_ his brother, and he hasn't got a malicious bone in his body, but... well, he doesn't want to talk about Axel.  He's not really sure why.  It's not like there's anything to hide, after all.  And it's not like Sora probably doesn't already know the bastard, anyway.  Sora knows pretty much everyone, after all.  And he'd been at one of Sora's parties.  It's just... Axel is Axel.  And that's it, there needs to be no other explanation.  He's not sure he can get Sora to understand that, really.

And he hasn't really had a friend just of his own before, he realises.  Hasn't really had _anything_ Sora doesn't share.  Something of his own.  Maybe that's it.

 

After breakfast, Sora drags him down to the rec room, and sits on him again.  Roxas flails (in, of course, an extremely dignified way), but is ultimately defeated.  Curses!  (He could, of course, throw Sora off, but then they'd be fighting, and neither of them is good at remembering to fight unarmed, and so they'd end up with their keyblades, and, well, it's hardly worth the bruises.  Besides, this way is more fun, since he doesn't like fighting Sora to begin with.)

"Get off," he says, but he knows he's not going to.

"You said you'd tell me," says Sora.

"I'll tell you if you get off," he says, more than a little annoyed.

Sora gets off, and rests his head on Roxas' chest.  "'kay," he says.  "Spill."  Roxas is suddenly at a loss for words.  He sighs.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well," says Sora.  "Who you were talking to, for a start."

"I know you already know him," he says, deadpan.

"Yeah," says Sora, "but you're telling, so tell."  Roxas sighs again.  This whole thing is ridiculous.

"Fine, fine.  His name is Axel."

"And?" prompts Sora.

"And what?"  Sora scowls at him.

"You're really bad at this, you know."  He raises an eyebrow.  Sora laughs.

"True.  So, how long have you known him?"  Roxas shrugs, and puts his hands behind his head.

"A while, I guess."

"Geez, Roxas.  Way to be specific."

"Since when do I notice these things?"  He scowls.  "And hey, since when do _you_?"  Sora thinks about it.

"You're right!"

"Must be Kairi."  Since she's a girl.  Girls like that sort of thing, right?

"Probably," says Sora, nodding.  His hair brushes over Roxas' neck, and he fights the urge to punch him.

"She's a bad influence."

"Yea- hey!"

"She is!"

"That's my girlfriend you're talking about!"

"So?  She's still a bad influence."  It's true!

"Probably," Sora admits, after a moment, "but I can't just let you say that sort of thing."

"Even though it's true?"

"'specially since it's true.  Girls are weird like that."

"Naminé's not," Roxas points out.

"Well, yeah.  But Naminé's just weird, even for girls.  _Anyway_ ," says Sora, rolling over and peering at Roxas from _way too close_.  "You were telling me about Axel."  Roxas scowls, and pokes at Sora's face.

"There's nothing really to say," he says.  Axel is Axel, not anything else.  Sora rolls his eyes.

"Do you like him?"

"He's weird."

"That's not an answer," Sora points out.  Curses!  Foiled.

"We're friends, I guess," he says.  Best friends, even.  He'd _asked_.  Sora frowns.

"If you say so," he says kind of dubiously.  Roxas raises an eyebrow at him again.  Since when did Sora doubt that sort of thing?

"Axel's kind of... well.  He's kind of... mean.  Uses people, and stuff," says Sora.  Roxas looks at him.  Well _duh_.  "So be careful, okay?"  Roxas rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," he says.  He might be friends with the bastard, but that hardly means he _trusts_ him, or anything.  Sora has nothing to worry about.

 

They get their results back two weeks before midsummer.  Roxas beats Riku by a full two points, much to Riku's dismay.

Roxas is never, _ever_ going to let him forget it.

 

Midsummer proper is, as it usually is, on a weekday.  Sora always insists on having their party on the Saturday afterwards, so most, if not all, of his rather numerous friends can come - but it's Midsummer, and it's their birthday.

Roxas isn't sure what to think of it, really.  One the one hand, they're eighteen, legally full adults, able to decide what they want to do with the rest of their lives.  On the other, he's still fucking stuck here.  So no matter what he _wants_ , he still can't do it.

Since it's their birthday, Riku and Kairi are over, and he knows he won't see Sora until tomorrow.  Kairi had looked sort of apologetic, as she and Riku had dragged Sora off - but nowhere near guilty enough to not do it, either.  So he's on his own, today.  It's not like he wasn't expecting it, but it still... kind of sucks.

He's not sure what to do with himself, either.  On the one hand, it's his birthday, he should be doing something special.  On the other, there's nothing to do.  Or at least nothing he doesn't do everyday anyway.

It's frustrating, to say the least.

He ends up lying down on the tiles of the roof proper, empty plate that had once contained some caramel slice balanced on his chest, basking in the sunlight.  It's nice, he thinks.  Definitely nice.  Not special, but nice.

Down on the roof, a red and black shape flips onto the railing, and looks around.  Axel spots him, and waves.  Roxas almost laughs.  Figures.

It just figures.

Axel walks over on the railing, casually graceful, and jumps up onto the tiles beside him, sitting down in such a position he doesn't get in the way of Roxas' sunlight.  It's noticed, and appreciated.

"My brother warned me about you," Roxas says, in lieu of a greeting.

"Oh?" says Axel, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup.  Says you're bad news."

Axel preens.  "I am _exceedingly_ bad news."

"Also that you're an untrustworthy, manipulative sonovabitch, and don't do anything without a reason."  Okay, so he's paraphrasing kind of a lot.  Big deal.  It's what Sora _meant_ , he's sure.  Axel grins.

"More or less, yeah."  Roxas raises an eyebrow at him.

"And?"  Axel shrugs, and grins, and makes a dramatic gesture with his hands.

"And the hell can I get from you?  You don't talk to anyone, you've the influence of a peanut, and no one _cares_ what you do in your spare time.  In fact, the only person you have _any_ sway with is your brother, and that's not even been tested - and I can get around him in other ways anyway, mainly 'cause he's such a good kid.  In the normal scheme of things, you'd be the most boring person imaginable to me - and yet.  I'm still here, I'm still interested, I _like_ you.  Funny, isn't it?"  Roxas smirks back at him.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

 

There's not all that much more to do with Axel there, really, but they do get a couple of fights in, which leads to Roxas introducing Axel to the infirmary.  They're not badly enough injured that it's worth calling one of the doctors, but he doesn't have enough gauze in his room, either.

There's not a lot can be done about Axel's injuries - some tiger balm, on the bruises, of course, and he straps up his torso in case of broken ribs, which Roxas thinks is a waste of time, but hey.  His choice.  Roxas' are a lot more treatable.  Butterfly tape and gauze pads, with bandages to hold them down, mostly - nothing's bad enough for stitches, which he's glad of.  They're kind of a pain to do.  It wouldn't take more than ten minutes, all up, he's sure, except for the fact that Axel insists on _helping_.

It's incredibly unhelpful, is all he can say, and he ends up with twice the amount of band-aids stuck to his person than he really needs.  His skin is going to suffocate, from all the plastic, or something.

After that, he goes and purloins the rest of the caramel slice, and some vanilla slice to go with it, and a half-dozen or so brandy snaps, and a bottle of raspberry lemonade, and they go back up to the roof.

They're about halfway through the food, when Axel frowns, looking rather serious.

"I should have brought a cake," he says, and looks so put out by the fact he _hadn't_ that Roxas can't help laughing at him.

"You just want to light things of fire," he says.

"Well," says Axel, "that _too_ , but it _is_ your birthday.  There should be cake."  Oh, that.  He'd almost forgotten.  He shrugs.

"That's what's Saturday's for," he says.  There'll be plenty of cake, then, he's sure.

"That's beside the point," says Axel, flapping one hand at him, and crunching on a brandy snap.  "You can't have too much cake, after all, and it's your birthday.  There should be cake."  He nods decisively.  "Right.  You stay here, I'll be right back."

Roxas looks at him funny.  What the hell was the bastard up to _now_?  "Where're you going?" he asks.  Axel gives him a _look_.

" _Cake_ ," he says, as if it should explain everything.  There's a pause.

"You're seriously going to go out and get cake," Roxas says, not quite believing it.  Axel nods.

"I am," he says, "so stay here," and jumps down off the roof.  Roxas stares after him.  What the _hell_ is that guy _on_?  He sniffs at the brandy snaps experimentally.  Nope, no booze there, despite the name.  What the hell.

 

Axel returns about half an hour later.  He does, indeed, have cake with him.  Roxas is very confused.

"So," he says, putting down his game, "you _actually went and got cake_."  He's still needs confirmation of this fact, despite the fact that Axel is putting blue candles into said cake carefully, trying not to disturb the chocolate on top.

Axel raises an eyebrow at him.  " _Nah_ ," he says.  "This is just a clever illusion."  Roxas hits him, then ponders the cake.  It _does_ look live a very nice cake.  Chocolate, with curls and raspberries on top.  Smells wonderful.

"Why?" he says, at last.  He doesn't understand.

Axel just looks at him.  "Because it's your birthday," he says, "so there should be cake."

That's not really a proper answer, Roxas thinks, but is distracted when Axel makes all of the candles light with an over-dramatic snap of his fingers.

It turns out that Axel doesn't have a bad singing voice, either, though Roxas would really prefer to have never found that out.  But no amount of hitting prevents the bastard from finishing his song, so he blows out the candles like a good boy.  Axel doesn't even make them keep burning regardless, which surprises him, and then they have cake.

If nothing else, Axel has good taste in cakes.  It's a chocolate-raspberry mud, dark and rich and gorgeous.  What with all the sweets they've eaten before, it's a little difficult to finish even one slice.  But, somehow, they manage.  Defeat is not an option!

"Thank you," Roxas mutters, after a while, going faintly pink.  He's pretty sure no one's ever done something like this for him before.  Axel just shrugs, and stretches in his seat.

"I like cake," he says, and grins.  Roxas scowls.  That's not it, and they both know it.

But he lets it lie, and they watch the sun set in silence.  It's nice, he thinks.  He sees the cake box, and the empty plates and glasses and lemonade bottle, out of the corner of his eye, and smiles, despite himself.  Special, even.

 

Axel gets up about ten thirty.

"Well," he says, stretching, "better head home, I guess."  Roxas nods, and gets up as well.

"You coming on Saturday?" he asks.  He'd like to know, is all!

"Of course, of course," says Axel, waving a hand at him.  Well... good.  Or something.

"Hey," Axel says, oddly serious.

"What," says Roxas, suspicious.  Can't trust the bastard, after all.

"Turns out I can't make anything that looks different, but here," Axel says, pressing something into his hands.  "Help you out fighting, or something."

It's a keychain.  Red and silver and black; the end, indeed, looks just like a small, silver version of one of Axel's weapons.  He looks at it, for a long moment.

"It doesn't work like that," he says, "but thank you."  He means it, and can't help but smile, again.  Axel had _made_ it.

Axel grins back at him.  He scowls, and scuffs his shoes on the ground.

"Why're you doing this," he mutters, not really looking at Axel, but not looking away, either.  Axel grins even wider.

"Haven't a fucking clue!" he says, throwing his arms out wide, and, for once, Roxas believes him.

"Oh," he says, and falls silent.  There's nothing he can think of, to say to that.

"Well, I'll see you Saturday," says Axel, and jumps down off the roof.  Roxas doesn't watch him go, too busy looking at his present.

 

He's really not sure what to do about the keychain.  The cake's easy - he puts it in his wardrobe, and eats it, piece by piece.  There's no cream, so he doesn't have to worry about it going off, just stale, and he doesn't intend to leave it that long.

The keychain, however, is kind of hard.  He doesn't want to just put it somewhere and leave it there - not because it would be rude, 'cause he knows Axel knows he doesn't give a shit about _that_ \- but because he doesn't want to.  In the end, he just clips it to one of the straps on his pants.  It's kind of weird, but, well, who cares.

 

"Roxas!" shouts Sora, early on Saturday afternoon.  The party doesn't start until just before dinner, but he's suspicious regardless.

"What?" he says.

"Come have a drink!" Sora grins, pulling on his arm.  Roxas raises an eyebrow at him.

"What."

"Come and have a drink!" Sora says again, dragging him along the hallway.

"No," he says.  It's much too early for that bullshit.  (He's sure that Sora doesn't mean 'a beer' by 'a drink', after all.)

"Come _on_ ," says Sora.  "It's our _birthday_."  Roxas raises an eyebrow at him.

"Well, actually -"

"Close enough!" says Sora, before he can bring logic into this.  "Come on!"

He sighs.  He knows Sora well enough that protesting just isn't going to work.

"Just one, then," he says.  Sora nods a little too readily for his comfort.

He has a bad feeling about this.

 

Roxas wakes just before dawn, and really wishes he wasn't in the habit.  His head feels like it's about to explode, and when he slightly opens his eyes, it gets worse.  He shuts them again rather quickly.  Still, even from that unfocused, bleary-eyed glance, he's pretty sure something's weird, about what he's seen.  Trying to think on it hurts too much, however, and he wills himself back to sleep as soon as the sun clears the horizon.  Maybe it will all make sense at a reasonable hour.

 

He feels a little better, when he wakes again sometime after noon.  Not much, but some.

"Are you awake," says a voice, not too far away from his ear.

"No," he grumbles.

"Ahh," says the voice.  "You are.  Finally.  It's almost two in the afternoon, you know."

"Fuck off, Sora," he says, because who else could it be?  Though his voice is kind of deeper, and...  There's a condescending pat on his head.

"You really _are_ out of it, aren't you?"  His eyes spring open, at that, and he turns towards the voice, because damned if he's going to take _Sora_ talking down at him, and-

...oh.  It's really not Sora.

"The fuck," he says, eloquently.

"Good afternoon," says Axel, from much too close for Roxas' comfort.  "Could you please let go of me now?"  Roxas blinks at him.  What?

Axel sits up.  Or tries to.  He's kind of stuck where he is because...

Roxas blinks.

"Gah," he says, flailing and throwing himself backwards.  What.  What the hell.

"Thank you be right back," says Axel, springing off the bed and running into the bathroom.

Ah.  Um.  Roxas isn't sure what to do, right about now.  Not thinking, he's pretty sure.  He doesn't really want to know what Axel was doing in his bed, after all.  Nor does he want to know why he was clinging to said bastard.  He's pretty sure he won't like any of the answers.  At least they're both still clothed.

He's also quite certain he's going to find out.  But for right now?  Pulling a pillow over his head and trying to go back to sleep sound like a really, really good idea.

 

The next time he wakes up, it's to someone jabbing his side.  He throws his pillow at the annoyance, before remembering why he'd had it over his head in the first place.

He opens his eyes again, looking up at Axel, who's caught the pillow with an amused expression.

"I don't wanna know, do I?" he mutters.  Axel grins.

"Probably not!" he says.  Roxas glares at him.

"If you're looking at me like that, I'm _sure_ I don't want to know."  Axel laughs, and he sighs.

"Well, then, out with it, then."  Best to get it over with, he's sure.

"What's the last thing you remember?" asks Axel, curiously.  Roxas isn't surprised about that.  Axel's _always_ curious, the stupid idiot.

He thinks for a bit.  He remember bits of things, light and laughter and something warm.  He's pretty sure he got in a fight with Riku.  Before that... oh, fuck.

He buries his face in his mattress.

"Sora convinced me to have a drink, for our birthday.  It kind of got out of hand."

Axel raises an eyebrow at him.  "If this's 'kind of' out of hand, I really don't want to see what 'really' would be," he says.

Roxas scowls at him.  "Well, I didn't kill anyone," he says.  "Or at least I don't think I did.  Did I kill anyone?"  His hands are kind of clean, for that, but you never knew...

"I... don't think so, _no_ ," says Axel, with a flat expression.  Bastard.    "You did tell me I was pretty, though."  Roxas stares.

"I what."

"Told me I'm pretty," he says, grinning.  "Which is, of course, very true, so you can't have been all _that_ drunk..."  Roxas isn't listening.  He puts his face in his hands.

"Why did I do that," he mutters to himself.

"Because you're an honest drunk," says Axel, nodding.  "Anyway, I don't really know what happened after that, since you went to look for Sora, but when I saw you again, you were draped all over said brother, doing your best to give him a hickey," _what!_ "but I'm pretty sure your brother wasn't interested, since he threw you at me.  And by 'threw' I mean 'picked up and chucked'."

"That's it," says Roxas.  He doesn't want to hear _another word_.  "I'm crawling under my bed and _dying of abject humiliation_."  And, when Axel looks like he's about to laugh, he does so.  (Not the dying bit.  But the crawling under his bed bit?  So happening.)  It's surprisingly comfortable, under there.  Dark and warm... there's an air vent next to his bedside table, and he puts his feet on it.  Mmmm, air.  Just the sort of comfort he needs, right now.

Axel does laugh at him, but doesn't say anything else, or even move from where he's lying on the bed.  After enough time that Roxas has half drifted off again, rather than think about what little he remembers, and how well it fits in with what Axel just told him, the door opens.

It's Sora; he'd be able to tell just by the ankles even if his shoes weren't so distinctive.

"Hey," says Sora, "he's up?"  There's a pause; Roxas guesses Axel must've nodded, though, since the next thing said is, "where'd he go?"  A longer pause, then Sora's peering down at him.  "What're you doing down _there_?" he asks.

"Dying of humiliation," he mumbles.  Sora laughs.

"Don't be silly, it wasn't _that_ bad.  Come on," he says, pulling him out by an arm.  He's still too out of it to really resist.  "Breakfast time.  Well, afternoon tea.  It's like three.  Close enough."  He drags him towards the door, then stops, looking back over his shoulder.  "Come on, you too."

"Me?" says Axel, surprised.  Obviously he doesn't know Sora very well.

"Yes, you.  Now hurry up, if we get there soon they'll probably still have some fairy bread left.

"Fairy bread?" Axel sounds confused, but Roxas smiles.

 

The next morning he feels much better.  Still not a hundred percent, but not as though he's going to be sick any second.  Or sleep all day, either.  He _does_ go back to bed and sleep until nine, but that's less because he feels like crap and more because he wants to.

Sora bounces down while he's having breakfast.

"Today," he proclaims, loud enough that the whole house can probably hear him, "I'm going to go _shopping_."

"That's nice, Sora," Roxas says, and eats some of his coffee.  Sora grins, and sits on the back of the chair across from him, nibbling on a chocolate croissant.

"We're gonna go down to the city, and buy stuff, and maybe see a movie, and get ice-cream.  You should come!"  It sounds nice.  He wants to go.

"No, Sora," he says.  Sora pouts at him.  "I mean it, no."

"Mean," Sora says.  "At least walk me to the gate."  Roxas rolls his eyes.

"What are you, _three_?"

"Roxaaas," Sora whines.

"Okay, fine!" he says.  Stupid _whining_.  It's too early for whining.  (It's always too early for whining, except for when it's too late.)  And it's not like walking to the gate's something he hasn't done before.

"Yay!" says Sora.  Roxas debates the merits of punching him in the face, and decides it's too much effort to move.

He has to before too long, of course, to walk with Sora, but that's _different_.  It's nice outside - clear skies, about 25.  It'll be hot in the afternoon.

Sora bounces along beside him, talking about nothing at all, until they get as far as Roxas lets himself get to the gate.  He stops, Sora takes another step, then twirls, and grabs his hands.

"Hey," he says, serious for once.  "I don't know what they've said to you, but you're 18 now.  An adult.  You can come outside if you want to."  Roxas feels his mind go numb.  Sora had known.  Not the whole thing, of course, but.  Sora had known.  That... that's not right.  Sora isn't supposed to know.  This is his problem!  "And," says Sora, half-turning around and keeping one hand firmly on his right wrist, "I say you want to.  C'mon, it'll be fun," he says, half dragging his shocked-into-inaction younger brother towards the gate.

It's not until they're half a step away that Roxas remembers himself enough to resist.  He digs his heels in, pulls back with all his might, "No, wait, Sora, you don't-" but Sora has always been the stronger of the two of them.

He can't even hear himself screaming, over the pain.

 

White.  White everywhere, everywhere there's white, white white white white - and silver and!

No.  Nonononono not again, not again he _won't_.  He won't!

He has to get out of here he has to - stupid wires, get out get out get _out_!  No, no, _don't touch him!_   Let him the go, let him _go_!

No.  No!  NonononoNO, where are his weapons?  Where are they where are they where are they give them back give them _back give them BACK!_

Stop touching him, stop touching him, let

him

go

.

 

It's dawn. 

 It's dawn, and he's not really awake.  He's pretty sure he's not _supposed_ to be awake, either, but this is a habit, and it's too hard to break, perhaps.  He doesn't quite understand, but then again, he's not awake.  He's stuck in the grey-world-between, and will be until it's no longer dawn.

This is the third day.  Perhaps the forth, if the time he'd woken up before had been a dawn as well.  He can't quite remember; he'd been a bit distracted.

Just a little.

In any case, he's alive, he knows that much.  Even stuck in the grey, he hurts too much to doubt that.  This is probably the _reason_ he's been drugged into unconsciousness, most of the time - or at least he assumes he's been drugged.  This isn't like him, after all.  He's not quite sure _why_ he's still alive, but he is.  That's a start.

What else does he know?  Not much, really.  He's alive, drugged, and hurts all over.

Maybe they - whoever _they_ are, and he's pretty sure it won't be good - will let him wake up properly, today.

He needs to know more.

 

Roxas wakes up.

He's in a hospital, that much is obvious by the décor, or lack thereof.  What.  _What_.

There is no hospital, where he lives.  The closest thing is the infirmary, and that has... well, colours.  And windows, and - none of this bullshit and.  And.

He's _outside_.

He sits up, as best he can, and tries to process this information.  It's sort of dizzying all in itself, and he feels like shit, and he has things stuck into his arms, but he manages.

He's _outside_.

Or, he realises, a room's been converted, or one he's not been allowed in before, or - it, it could be any number of things.

He has to know.

There is a window, a few meters away, though it's on the wall behind him, so he can't see out.  He knows all the views from the house, intimately; if he can just get to it - but there're things in his arms.  Well, they'll just have to go.

His right arm's pretty uncomplicated; two tubes stuck into the back of his hand, attached to what look like water-bags at the other end.  Drips, he's pretty sure, to give him some sort of nutrition while he's out, and to administer drugs from.  Not really a problem, to take out.  His left, however...

He can see his entire left arm.  He can't remember being able to do that before.  Not ever.  He knows he could, once, but he doesn't remember.

The skin's sunken in, where the damn chain had been (had been!  This has to be some sort of hallucination...), and there's bits of metal poking up out of it.  With wires attached.  Wires that are attached to...

Like hell he's going to let them keep him attached to _that_!  Like hell!

His right hand's just about to pull them out, when a strong hand grabs it at the wrist, careful not to jostle the drips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," says a man.  Roxas guesses he's a nurse, given the uniform.  Doctors wear coats, right?

He looks down at him with scorn.  The hell is _this_ guy.

"Seriously, I wouldn't," he says.  "You'd probably die."  Oh.  That's bad.  Even still...

"The hell are you," he asks.  His voice is little more than a harsh whisper, and _fuck_ that hurt.

"You shouldn't be speaking," says the guy.  "Heck, you shouldn't even be _conscious_ , what am I _saying_."  He runs a hand through his hair.  "I'm Peter, by the way, and I'm your nurse."

 

For a nurse, Peter is a pretty nice guy.  And informative, too, which is even better.

The facts are as follows - he's been out for almost a week (he'd known that), yes, he _is_ outside - in the Tida Hospital, to be precise - (he'd made him move him over to the window, to confirm it.  He really is.  It's more than a little surreal), and the wires are all that's keeping the damn chain from finishing its job and killing him on the spot.  Or so Peter's been told, anyway; he freely admits to not knowing enough about tech to know for sure.  Which makes two of them, but Roxas isn't stupid enough to mess with it.  He's still in agony, he _knows_ what it'll do to him, if he fucks it up.  Apparently a specialist's been in, but wants him healthier, and conscious, before he does anything else.  Roxas is suspicious.

Peter's saved from further interrogation, however, when Sora comes in.

"Roxas!" he says, rushing over.  "You're awake!"  About this point, he dissolves into tears.  Roxas isn't quite sure _why_ , but he seems to be blaming himself, which is really kind of stupid.  It has nothing to do with Sora at _all_.

 

He's not allowed up out of bed for another week, which he finds extremely unfair.  He's feeling well enough to do most things after a couple of days, after all.  Everyone assures him that's the painkillers at work, not that he's _actually_ that much better, but even so...

Still, his days, such as they are, are pretty full.  Not that there's anything to do, but people keep visiting him, and giving him things, for some reason.  Visiting he can almost understand - need to make sure he's alive, after all.  Presents, though.  That's just weird.

It's the most social he's been in living memory, and that's only because he's all but tied up, and can't escape.  It does distract him from things he'd rather not think about, but really.  It's more than a little excessive.

Sora barely leaves his side, which he finds himself in turns grateful for and annoyed by.  The annoyed part tends to happen when he's over-socialised and just wants to _sleep_ , and when Sora forgets to shower for days in a row.  In the dead, sterilised air of the hospital, it's even more noticeable than normal.

He doesn't see Axel at all.

 

On the third day after he wakes up, he gets a visitor he'd never had expected.  Not after all this time.

"Naminé?" he says, groggily.  He's just woken up, and doesn't quite believe his eyes.

"Hello," she says, softer than he's heard her speak for a long time.  It's her voice - and even if it wasn't, now he's awake enough to feel it, her _presence_.

Naminé has come to see him!  He sits up, and waves at her.  She comes a half step closer, no more.

"Are you okay?" he asks.  She stares at him.

"Me?"

"Yeah!  I haven't heard from you in forever!"  He's been _worried_ , damnit.

"I think it's perhaps I who should be asking you that," she says, looking down at her feet.  He makes a noise.

"I'll be fine, I'll be fine," he says.  "But what about you?"

"I-" she starts.

"How bad is it," he says, softly, seriously.  She looks up at him, finally meeting his eyes.  He notices how much weight she's lost - she looks thin and fragile.

"Not as bad as it could be," she says.  That doesn't mean much.

"And," he says.

"I, too, will be fine," she says.

"I see," he says.  _Stronger than you know_ , he'd said of her once.  And there, in her eyes, is the proof of it.  He believes her.

 

After a week, the specialist shows up.

It's a large, blond man, wearing goggles, and looking none too clean.  He's followed by a much shorter man with numerous bits of metal stuck into his skin.

Roxas is not impressed.

"Right," says the specialist, "I'm Cid, the little shit's Jack, and you've got two options.  I can repair that fucked up piece of engineering you've got there, disablin' the bits you don't want, or I can take the whole thing off completely."

'Take it off," Roxas says.

"Ya reckon?  I'd recommend the former, much easier."

"Take it off."

"You don't wanna keep your benefits, or shit?"

"Benefits?" he says, with scorn.   " _What_ benefits?"

"Don't be a retard, you've got," he runs his fingers over the damn chain quickly, "...fucking bastard turned them off!"  Cid glowers.  "When I get my hands on this fucker, I don't _care_ who it is, I'll-"

"Wait your turn," Roxas says, cold.  Cid looks down at him, and nods.

"Good," he says.

Roxas isn't quite sure why, but he thinks he passed something.

 

It takes them three hours of solid work, to remove the tech.  Roxas watches, and is very glad of the painkillers still numbing his system.

They don't even do anything to him personally - what the do is dismantle the tech itself, piece by piece.  But even though they're doing that, and the wires are in place to protect him (or something, he's not quite sure what it is they do), he's still shocked every now and again.  He's sure he's been doomed to black nails for life.

Oh, well.  Sacrifices.

The last thing they take out is the wires - the bits of metal stuck in his skin, Cid explains, can't come out.  Or at least not yet.  If he really, _really_ wants them out, it can be done, after the swelling goes down and the area's cleaned up a bit.  Six months or so, he's told, at least.  But they're just there to hold stuff in place, so they're not actually doing anything to him, and it's not really worth it.

Roxas doesn't care.  He wants them _gone_.

He's left with an instruction to _keep the hell off_ his left side for the conceivable future - something about muscles weakening by growing dependant - and an arm in a weird-looking semi-metallic cast.

He slips into sleep as they go, and has fever-dreams for three days straight.

 

Sora's there when he wakes up.  So is Peter, which is probably a good thing, as the very first thing he does is throw up.  There's not really all that much left in him - they'd put him back on a drip, but that's no substitute for proper meals - but his body still insists on it.

Sora sits up on the bed next to him, and pats his hair.  He falls back to sleep pretty quickly, and he feels a bit better.

The next few days continue in much the same fashion.  When he's awake, he's ill, irritable, not quite himself.  His arm _aches_ , and no matter what Peter gives him, it feels no better.  He is, however, finally allowed limited movement, though it tires him out more than he cares to admit.  But it's so nice to have a proper shower, and change clothes, and do all those normal sorts of things, that he doesn't mind as much as he usually would.  Everyone tells him he just needs to be patient, that everything will get better in time, but Roxas isn't good at patient.

So he sleeps most of the time away, hoping to be able to leave soon.

 

Maybe it's just the drugs, but Roxas is sure the sending is staring at him.  Which is stupid, stupid, it's a sending.  They can't stare.  They don't have eyes, after all.

But he feels like it is, all the same.

It's a new one, he's sure.  Or at least one he's never seen before; squat and armoured, and he's pretty sure those are swords strapped to its back.  Its face is masked, so Roxas has no idea why he thinks the thing is staring at him - not that he'd really be able to tell anyway - but all the same.  He's sure it is.

He doesn't realise he's staring back until Sora pulls on his arm - the good one, of course, but he still flinches.

"Roxas, come on," he starts, like he always does when he thinks his brother is being a bigger idiot than usual, and Roxas tunes him out, after that.  It's easy, with this much practice.

"Hello," he says to the sending, instead.  This is, he thinks, important.  He has no idea why.

Sora makes a frustrated noise, and is less than a second off bodily dragging him away - Roxas has it timed, he's so predictable - when the sending bows.

It's definitely a bow, from the waist and everything, and just as solemn as Roxas' greeting had been.  He hears a whisper in the back of his mind, but can't make out the words.  It then fades into the ground, and disappears.

"What was _that_ ," says Sora, confused.

"I don't know," he says.  Sora makes an annoyed noise.

"Well, anyway, we've gotta go - you're gonna be late for your appointment."

"I'm coming," he says, and follows, but can't tear his eyes away from the spot the sending had been, until they turn a corner and the view is lost.

 

He wakes at false-dawn.

That, alone, is unusual.  The fact that someone's sitting in his window just _adds_ to the bizarre.

He'd had Sora and Riku move his bed, so that he can see out of the window, as soon as Peter would allow it.  It's nice - he can see out, whenever he wants, to a view he hasn't already committed to memory.  Normally, it's wonderful.

Right now, it's kind of disturbing, what with the hooded figure sitting _right there_.  A hooded figure that's -

Wearing one of those coats, from Naminé's first weird picture.

Roxas feels his blood run cold.

He sits up, slowly - the figure doesn't move.  He moves closer, intending to... what?  Demand answers, lest he chuck them out the thirteen-storey drop, or something.  He's still strong enough for that, at least.

He glances up under the hood, trying to see who this bastard is, and - it's Axel.  He's fast asleep.

Well, shit.  He can't throw Axel out of a window.  Well, not a window with a fatal fall, anyway.  That would be - well, they're friends.  You don't go around killing your friends.

He hasn't seen Axel asleep before.  It's kind of weird.  He's so _still_.

Roxas debates waking him up, but decides not to.  He looks exhausted, and he has enough sleep stored up that he can wait it out.  Besides, it's not all _that_ long 'till dawn.

He grabs the book Sora had brought him yesterday - games aren't allowed, in the hospital, because of all the tech - and settles back to read.  It's a _decent_ book, about an orphan boy in a post-apocalypic city, trying to save the world from ghosts.  He's halfway through already.

The first warning he gets that Axel is awake is a softly-spoken curse word.  It's so soft that if it hadn't been for the pre-dawn silence, Roxas would never had heard it.  He guesses Axel hadn't meant to fall asleep, which he can understand.  Windows are hardly _comfortable_ places to take a nap in, he knows.

"Good morning," he says, looking up from his book.

Despite the fact he hasn't actually moved, Roxas can tell he freezes.  Interesting, that.

"Hey," Axel says after a long moment.

"You look like shit," he says, and Axel laughs.

 

"You're gonna be okay, right," Sora asks for the umpteenth time.

Roxas hits him over the head.  " _Yes_ , Sora."   Sora mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like 'just checking," and rolls the dice.

They're playing Monopoly - they'd both been bored out of their brains, so Peter had nabbed a board for them, out of the Children's ward.  He'd played, too, for a while, but he does have other patients he needs to look after, so it hadn't lasted long.  They don't even like Monopoly much, but the only other thing that had been around was a beaten up chess board, which neither of them know how to play, and Squatter.

Squatter leads to fights, more often then not, which, while more amusing than board games, aren't at all appropriate.  So Monopoly it is.

"Three," says Sora.  "One, two, three...  Trafalgar Square!"  No one's bought it yet, so Sora does.  Roxas scowls.  Now he's one down.

But that's okay.  If he gets an eight, he'll land on Mayfair.

 

Patience is not one of Roxas' stronger virtues.  He wants _out_ of this damn hospital, already!

Sure, he's still sore, and gets tired kind of easily, but _really_.  It's been a month.  He's off pretty much all the drugs.  He really should be out of here, by now, he thinks, and is fucking sick and tired of being given the run-around.  So he waits until Sora's fallen asleep one night, changes into fresh clothes, nicks Sora's wallet, and sneaks out.

When he gets out the front of the hospital, he just stares, for a long moment, up at the sky.  He can go _anywhere he wants_.  He can do anything.

He steps off the hospital grounds, and out of their magics, and summons his weapons.  He's _free_.

He has no idea which way leads where, so he just picks at random.  He walks, since he doesn't know how to catch a bus.  He sees so many things he'd never thought he'd ever would - suburbs and shops and slums and the beach - the _beach!_   He buys fish and chips, because it's something you just should do, at least once in your life, he's sure.  Some wanna-be tough guys try and mug him; he might be unwell, but he's still not _weak_.  Oblivion alone leaves them in bloody, broken piles.  No one tries to rob him after that.  He watches street performers, he wanders through the city centre, up and down and around and round.  He has no idea where he is, and he loves it.  He feels like he could do this forever.

After a while, he comes across a park, or something of the sort.  It's early morning, and it's beautiful.  He's kind of exhausted, so though he knows he won't sleep, he flops down under a tree.

He's not sure how long he lies there, looking up at the green, at the sun filtering through, making a pretty combination of light and shade flicker in the breeze.  Hours, he's sure.

His contemplation is eventually interrupted by Axel sticking his head into view.

"Well," he says, looking down at him.  "there you are."  Roxas grins up at him.

"Hi," he says.

"Your brother's worried sick," Axel continues.  Roxas frowns at him.

"Since when do you care about that?"

"Since," says Axel, trying for a pious expression, which just completely fails, given his face, "your brother is threatening to gut me if you're not found."  Roxas makes a confused face.

"Sora's doing what?"  That's not like Sora.  He's too... Sora, to go around threatening people.  He just does things himself, usually.

"Threatening all and sundry with various sorts of grievous bodily harm unless your person is returned to him in a timely fashion."

Roxas has been up way, _way_ too long to parse that.  "Huh?"

Axel _looks_ at him.  "He's gonna beat people up if he doesn't find you."

"Huh."

"Yeah."  Axel frowns at him for a second.  "Have you eaten?"

Roxas blinks up at him.  What?  Why?

"You've been gone for three days, or so," says Axel, exasperated.  "Have you eaten?"

"A while ago...  I had fish and chips.  By the sea."  He has no words, none at all, to express how happy this _still_ makes him.  Axel grins.

"Oh, really?  Cool.  You been down to the market yet?"

"No."  He doesn't even think he's _heard_ of a market.

"C'mon, then," says Axel, pulling him up by his good arm.  "I know a stall that does great noodles."

"Okay," he says.  They walk a few steps, before he says, seriously, "I'm not going back."

"No?" says Axel, raising an eyebrow.

"No," he says.  Axel shrugs, and produces a phone from somewhere in his pockets.

"Call your brother, then, he was quite serious in his threats."  A pause.  "And I'm quite attached to my intestines, funnily enough."

"What, really?" Roxas snickers, "with the way you dress?"  Axel scowls at him.

"What's wrong with the way I dress?"  Roxas laughs.

"Corset, Axel.  Corset."  Axel twitches.

"Ha.  Funny."  Roxas raises an eyebrow at him.

"You don't?"

"I'm just naturally this gorgeous," he says, preening, "and don't change the subject, call your brother."  Roxas looks down at the phone.  It's small, black, and has a lot of buttons.

"...I don't know his number," he realises.

"You know," says Axel, putting his face in his hand, "this really shouldn't surprise me.  But it does."

"We live in the same house," Roxas points out.  "If I want to talk to him, I can just go and find him."  Axel looks thoughtful for a second.

"Okay, fair enough point.  But luckily, I do!"  Roxas blinks.

"Do what?"  Axel gives him a look.

"Know his number, moron,"

"Ahh," says Roxas, really not up to banter at this stage of the day.  Axel frowns at him.

"You haven't slept, have you?"

"No."  He sighs.

"Okay then!  Change of plans.  You ring Sora, _get some sleep_ , _then_ we go and get noodles."  Which, Roxas thinks, sound pretty damn good - just one problem with that.

"Not going back," he says, stubbornly.  Not for anything.

"No," says Axel, shrugging.  "I figured you could crash on my couch.  It's not like I don't owe you that much."  Oh.  Well.  That was... yeah, he could deal with that.  Though he's not exactly sure how a couch would be comfortable for sleeping on.

"Okay," he says.

"Now go and ring - wait.  Do you even know _how_ to use a phone?"

"Not really," he admits.

Axel makes a noise at him, and shows him how to make a call.

And again.

And again.

Roxas is pretty pleased, at that - three times is pretty good, and Axel only snapped and beat him about the head (Green!  Green!  Not red!  Are you fucking _colour-blind_?) once, which almost has to be a record.

He's really not good with tech.

Sora's not happy, that he refuses to go home, and is still kind of pissed about Roxas borrowing his wallet.  Kairi had _given_ him that wallet, after all, for his birthday last year.  Roxas just tells him to suck it up, because damnit, he's made up his mind already.  But he promises to call later, so they can try and work things out a bit better when they're less likely to maul each other.

He hangs up the phone - actually the red button, this time - and looks up at the sun, through the trees.  It's going to be a nice day.


End file.
